


The Only Exception

by VampireInATrenchCoat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Possession, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Castiel Possessing Dean Winchester, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Season/Series 14, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-12 14:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 46,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16874949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampireInATrenchCoat/pseuds/VampireInATrenchCoat
Summary: Dean swallowed drily again, feeling his tongue heavy and weird inside his mouth, but he still managed to say, “Seriously, Cas, I... I need this. I really do. And you’re the only one who can do it. You’re the only one Itrustto do this.” The hunter’s voice sounded far too hoarse, still lacking the confidence he wished to convey, and he licked his lips, looking down, focusing his gaze on a particular spot on the sheets. He fiddled with a loose thread he found there, feeling that difficulty to sit still for too long making itself known once more. He cleared his throat, and tried again, “And this is the easiest way, too. It just solves everything. You can check the damage Michael did. You can try to dig up some memories, to see if I can remember how I got this scar. And you can make sure that... that he’s really gone.” His voice did fail this time, throat feeling dry and tight, and he swallowed again to try and fix that, but it did very little to help.The slightest hint of a feeble, empty smile tugged the corner of Dean's mouth upward, words coming out far too low and weak when he added, “Three birds, one stone, right?”As if this really were that simple.Set during 14x03, "The Scar".





	The Only Exception

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, about two months ago, my best friend and I were talking about how I basically can't write anything short, and she challenged me to write a story under 5k words and post it. It took a while for inspiration to finally hit me, but a little over month ago it finally did, and that's how this one shot was born.
> 
> And guess what? I failed the challenge. Terribly. As you can see, I wasn't even _close_ to 5k. XD But hey, at least you guys get a new story, right? ;P
> 
> For some reason, I've always had this weird fascination with the idea of Cas possessing Dean, so I finally got to play around with that idea. ;) (Although _possessing_ may not be the right term here. I mean, it kind of is, but it's also not entirely accurate, in a way? Just... please keep that in mind. You'll get what I mean. ;P)
> 
> I wrote most of this before watching 14x03, and then I decided to adapt this story so that it could actually fit into the episode after I watched it. But of course, I made some changes to what actually happened in canon. ;) ;)
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. The title of this story comes from the song _The Only Exception_ by Paramore, which I also do not own.

“Cas, what’s taking so damn long?”

Dean hadn’t meant for the words to come out so sharp and harsh, but that’s what happened anyway. It wasn’t like he had much control over it, though, especially considering just how freaking  _nervous_  he was feeling in that moment. He couldn’t even sit still for more than a handful of seconds, and he found himself constantly shifting his weight on the spot where he was currently sitting on the edge of his bed, expectation thick and heavy in his gut.

And yet, he refused to open his eyes and see what was happening right in front of him, because that might make him change his mind about this, and it was way too late for that now.

Well, actually, it  _wasn’t,_ but Dean knew this had to be done, so he just had to stop being such a big baby about it.

But that was  _way_  easier said than done.

“Are you certain about this, Dean?” There was no resentment in the angel’s voice, not even a single note of hurt coating the seraph’s words, but that wasn’t exactly a surprise. Dean had absolutely no doubts that the angel could read him like a freaking open book right now, that the seraph could very easily tell that the hunter was beyond nervous and uncomfortable in that moment, so of course Cas wouldn’t be offended or upset because of the hunter’s sharp words.

Dean sighed, but still refused to open his eyes. He could still imagine Cas’ face pretty easily, though; could see it perfectly in his mind, those big, owlish blue eyes staring right at him, focused and unwavering, trying to read him, to find even the slightest hint of doubt on the hunter’s face, to try and figure out if the human truly was okay with this.

Swallowing drily, Dean forced himself to nod. “Yeah, Cas, just… go ahead. Do your thing.” Even to his own ears, the words sounded forced, strained, not entirely confident or sincere, but he hoped Cas wouldn’t notice it.

But of course he did.

“Dean, if you don’t want to do this, we can—”

“No, Cas, it’s not…” Dean sighed again, shaking his head weakly, changing his mind about what he’d been about to say. Instead of trying to convince Cas that he really was okay with this, instead of struggling to keep his voice from shaking and his resolve from breaking as he tried to reassure the angel for what had to be the twentieth time now, the hunter decided to try another tactic.

So he just pointed out the obvious, “We  _have_ to do this. I mean, what else  _can_  we do?”

His question was met with silence, and when actual minutes passed and he still didn't get a response, Dean decided he had no other choice but to let his eyes slide open, finally allowing his gaze to focus on the angel’s face, even if he knew he probably shouldn’t do that right now, even if he knew that would only make this whole thing even harder for him.

And he wasn’t wrong about that, but the hunter did his best to ignore the worried look the angel was giving him then, the hint of plea that was so painfully clear in those beautiful azure eyes, pushing his next words out of his mouth before his nerves decided to try and get the best of him again. “I literally puked up  _blood_  less than half an hour ago, Cas. We have to know what the fuck’s wrong with me. What the hell  _Michael_  did to me.”

The name rolled off his tongue like a curse, bitter and unwanted, causing his stomach to slosh with an unpleasant feeling, nausea coiling in his gut and making Dean’s insides twist, but the hunter just gritted his teeth together, squared his jaw and shook his head, powering through, not allowing his voice to falter. He couldn’t let a fucking  _name_  have such a strong hold on him. He  _wouldn’t._

Before Cas could realize there was something wrong, Dean added, “And I’d also feel a lot better if I knew for sure that the bastard’s really gone. I mean, I don’t even  _remember_  him leaving, and that’s kinda freaking me out.”

Actually, that was exactly what was chewing on Dean’s nerves the most—the  _not_  knowing, the enormous hole in his memory, the insistent, unrelenting  _doubt_. He remembered nothing of what Michael had done while wearing his body, because the hunter been a little too busy for that—trapped inside his own mind, constantly drowning and fighting for air, thrashing in the deep, dark waters of his mind, clawing at invisible walls and metaphorically screaming himself hoarse, but he was never able to reach the surface, no matter how hard he tried. He was never able to break free, and he knew for a fact that he hadn't been the one to eject Michael, because apparently, he just couldn't  _do_  that.

So why the  _hell_  had Michael  _left?_  Dean really couldn’t think of a reason why the archangel would just ditch his perfect vessel like that, especially when he’d gone through so many lengths to make sure that Dean  _knew_  Michael was in charge, to make sure that Dean knew Michael  _owned_  him. Those were literally the only words the sadistic bastard had said to Dean, in one of the rare, brief moments the hunter had actually managed to have some clarity and actually  _say_  something to Michael, before the archangel had effortlessly pushed him back down into the water to drown.

This just didn’t make sense, and it was driving Dean  _mad_ , filling the hunter’s head with worried, almost paranoid thoughts that would certainly be keeping him awake at night for a long time, that would surely make him toss and turn on his bed for hours without end if he didn't figure this out soon. It truly was a wonder that he'd even managed to fall asleep at all earlier, but then again, his body was utterly exhausted, muscles aching and feeling completely spent, and he'd barely even managed to take off the goddamn fucking black vest and white dress shirt Michael had dressed him in—well,  _yank_  them off might actually be the right term—and toss them both across the room, as well as kick off those uncomfortable fucking polished black shoes, before he'd collapsed onto his bed and just passed out right there, still half-dressed and lying on top of the covers.

But he hadn't been asleep for long, and soon enough he was waking up with a jolt, powerful, violent coughs rocking his entire body, a startlingly strong wave of nausea washing over his insides and bubbling up dangerously in his gut. He'd barely even made it into the bathroom before he was spilling the contents of his stomach—which basically consisted of half a burger and a handful of fries that Sam had pretty much forced him to swallow on the drive to the Bunker—into the nearest toilet, choking and trembling all the way through it, gasping as his hands curled around the old porcelain seat for support. His dinner wasn't the only thing that made an appearance then, though—the sight of stark, crimson blood mingling in with the vomit and water inside the toilet was unexpected, and very worrying.

Dean still remembered Cas’ words from almost a full decade ago very clearly, about how an archangel would normally leave its vessel an empty, broken shell when they left it. Sure, a True Vessel could contain an archangel without withering away, without rotting from the inside out, but that didn't mean that there were no consequences to the vessel once the archangel was gone. Dean remembered the state Raphael’s vessel had been in, practically vegetating in that hospital room, just staring blankly at the wall like the man wasn’t even  _there_  anymore. But most importantly, he remembered how Cas had pointed out that Dean would most likely be in an even  _worse_  state if Michael were to ever inhabit his body, considering Michael was a lot more powerful than Raphael.

But that hadn’t happened. Dean wasn't just a useless empty vessel now, which was at the same time a blessing and curse. He was fine physically—or at least he seemed to be mostly okay, anyway. He’d puked up blood, true, and that could only mean that there  _was_  something wrong with him, but he was coherent, and he could walk and talk and basically  _function_  as a human being.

And that meant that either Cas had been wrong back then, or that Michael hadn’t been inside of Dean for long enough to actually do a lot of damage, or…

Or he was still here, hidden somewhere deep in Dean’s subconscious, just waiting for the right moment to take over again, to make Dean his fucking  _puppet_  again—powerless, helpless, without any chance of fighting for control of his own damn body.

And  _fuck_ , the single thought of it already had Dean’s heart racing inside his chest, a fresh wave of panic washing over his insides, making his head spin, hands curling into fists at his sides, gripping at the sheets.

He couldn’t go through that again. He  _couldn’t—_

“Dean.”

Dean blinked, startled, letting his gaze focus on Cas’ face once more, only to realize that the angel looked even more worried now, a heavy frown in his brows. The sight was like a bucket of icy cold water being dumped right over the hunter’s head, snapping him right out of his trance, pulling him back to the present with a jolt, the shift so abrupt that for a moment, the hunter felt a bit disoriented, and he took a moment to find his bearings.

Right. He and Cas were in his room. In the Bunker. Sitting on his bed. Dean was fine, and he was back in control of his body.

Well, at least for now, anyway.

The hunter pulled in a breath slowly, then pushed it back out, letting the feeling of the air flowing through his airways ground him, soothe him, keeping him tethered to what was happening right in front of him. His hand curled around the edge of the bed, gripping at the mattress beneath him, like a much needed reminder that this was all tangible and  _real._

Right. Okay.

He could do this.

"And of course, there's...  _this."_ Dean lifted a hand as he said the last word, gesturing vaguely at the spot on his right arm where he knew that weird mark was.

He'd only seen it after he'd thrown up. He'd figured he should take a shower before going back to bed since he was awake again and already in the bathroom, suddenly feeling bothered and dirty in his own skin, in  _Michael's fucking clothes_ , so he'd proceeded to take it all off—again, to  _yank_  it all off, really—letting the rest of the archangel's clothes fall to the floor at his feet, wanting nothing more than to just scrub his entire freaking body until his skin was pink and irritated, just so he could feel  _clean_  again.

And that was when he'd seen it—the scar. It was a weird one, too; a deep sort of wound that could only have been created by some sort of blade, one that had left behind not one, but two big gashes on the hunter's skin, as if Dean had been stabbed with a giant meat fork or something.

Only that hadn't happened. Dean was absolutely certain that he hadn't had that scar before Michael had jumped his bones—surely he would remember something like  _that_ —and that could only mean that whatever wound had left behind that mark must have been inflicted on Michael, and not Dean.

And  _that_  meant that somewhere out there, in this world, there was something—a  _weapon_ —that could actually hurt Michael. The single thought of it already had Dean's heart beating faster inside his chest, excitement and pure, raw  _hope_  flooding his entire being, so strong and potent that they made his head spin. An idea formed in his mind; images of what he wanted to do to Michael, of what he would be able to do to the bastard if he found that blade, filled the hunter's head, and he let them guide him, let his desire for revenge take over without a fight.

Dean needed to know where that weapon was. He needed to find it. He needed to  _remember_.

In hindsight, maybe he hadn't actually thought this whole thing through all that well; he had to admit that. As soon as all those thoughts had registered in his head, as soon as Dean realized what he had to do to figure out a way to possibly hurt Michael—maybe even _kill_  him—the hunter had thrown the clothes he'd discarded just a couple of minutes prior back on and run out of the bathroom, finding the Bunker completely silent, the hallways empty and devoid of any other hunters, probably because everyone was already asleep.

Everyone but one person. And that someone just so happened to be precisely the one being Dean wanted to talk to right now, the one being that could actually help him with his new plan. So Dean had simply crossed the Bunker without another thought, hurriedly walking down several familiar hallways, bare feet slapping a bit too loudly against the cold tiled floor underneath them, until he finally got to the library, where he hoped he would find whom he was looking for.

And as it turned out, his guess had been correct. There, sitting on one of the chairs in the Men of Letters' library, a small pile of books resting on top of the wooden table right before him, was Cas. And the angel was alone, thankfully, with no sign of anyone else nearby, not even Jack.

Cas had seemed startled to see Dean, and the angel's face had instantly filled with concern, which wasn't exactly surprising. Dean knew he'd looked pretty distraught in that moment, eyes wide, mind racing and breathing a little heavier than normal, but all it took was a quiet, "Cas, I need your help with something," from him to get Cas up and moving, abandoning his books and following the hunter to his room without another question.

Which brought Dean back to his current predicament.

Dean swallowed drily again, feeling his tongue heavy and weird inside his mouth, but he still managed to say, “Seriously, Cas, I… I need this. I really do. And you’re the only one who can do it. You’re the only one I  _trust_  to do this.” The hunter’s voice sounded far too hoarse, still lacking the confidence he wished to convey, and he licked his lips, looking down, focusing his gaze on a particular spot on the sheets. He fiddled with a loose thread he found there, feeling that difficulty to sit still for too long making itself known once more. He cleared his throat, and tried again, “And this is the easiest way, too. It just solves everything. You can check the damage Michael did. You can try to dig up some memories, to see if I can remember how I got this scar. And you can make sure that... that he’s really gone.” His voice did fail this time, throat feeling dry and tight, and he swallowed again to try and fix that, but it did very little to help.

The slightest hint of a feeble, empty smile tugged the corner of Dean's mouth upward, words coming out far too low and weak when he added, “Three birds, one stone, right?”

As if this really were that simple.

But it should be.  _Fuck,_  it really should be. This was  _Cas,_  for fuck's sake. Cas, the angel who'd rescued Dean from the freaking Pit, who'd rebelled against Heaven for him, who'd  _died_  for him, more than once. Cas was  _family_ —had been for  _years_  now, actually—and Dean trusted the angel with his life, with his own freaking  _soul_ , even.

So why was he so fucking nervous about this? Why was this  _so fucking hard?_

A hand entered his field of vision without a warning, snapping the hunter out of his own thoughts, and before Dean could even process what was happening, before he could even  _react_  to it, his cheek was suddenly cradled against a warm palm and his head was tugged upward gently by that careful, almost tender touch. The hunter was so surprised by the gesture that he couldn’t even find it in himself to fight the movement, and the next thing he knew was that he was staring into Cas’ eyes, green meeting blue once again.

Only this time, the angel’s gaze was warmer, softer, soothing like the gentle brush of the sea, of its waves tenderly caressing the land’s shore.

Dean felt some of the tension bleeding away, fading from his muscles, and he had to hold back the urge to lean into that touch, to fucking nuzzle against that hand like a goddamn cat. And Cas had to know what he was doing to Dean, what this  _meant—_ he  _had_ to. There was just no way he didn’t,  _no way_. He couldn’t possibly—

“Dean.”

The name was whispered this time, soft and gentle and barely even audible at all, but it was already enough to jolt Dean right out of his trance again, and he forced back the tsunami of emotions that had started to very steadily bubble up in his gut, swallowing down all the feelings that had for a moment threatened to resurface right then, burying them deep, deep down, just like he’d been doing for  _years,_ hiding them away and hoping that would be enough to keep Cas from seeing any of it. The air was heavy around them, filled with soundless words, with all the things that had been going unsaid between them for  _years_  now. Honestly, Dean couldn’t even remember a time when they weren’t there.

But Dean ignored all of that, swallowing drily yet again, before he finally managed to croak out a low,  _“Please,_ Cas.” He licked his lips again, watching as hesitation filled the angel’s eyes once more, but before the seraph could say another word, before he could ask Dean if he was truly okay with this yet another time, the hunter somehow managed to push a few more syllables past his lips, managed to whisper the words he’d once vowed to never, ever say to an angel.

But he’d already broken that vow weeks ago.

“Yes, Cas.  _Yes.”_

For a long, silent moment, nothing happened. Cas just sat there for what must have been a full minute, just  _staring_ at Dean, eyes focused on the hunter’s face with such a clear, unwavering intensity that he might as well be trying to look into the hunter’s freaking soul.

And he didn’t move his hand, either. No, the angel just kept it there, gently cupping the hunter’s face, such a small, tender gesture, something that should be reassuring and heartwarming, grounding even. But instead, Dean could only see it as a sad, empty echo, mocking the intimate touch of a lover, and it  _hurt, so fucking much,_ because it wasn’t  _real._ It didn’t mean the same thing to Cas that it did to Dean, and it never would.

It took a while, but the scene did change eventually. Light, ethereal and angelic, suddenly filled Cas’ eyes, bleeding into them and lighting them up from the inside,making the seraph's irises seem even bluer than they already were.

And then that unnaturally bright light was slipping out of Cas’ mouth, slithering through the air and moving toward Dean, and all the hunter could do was gasp at the feeling of it sliding past his lips and down his throat. It felt warm and cold at the same time, and it flooded his entire being at once, blanketing his body with its gentle tendrils, enveloping him carefully, and it was so  _different_  from how it’d been with Michael. The archangel had just  _taken,_ just  _claimed_ Dean’s body as he’d pleased, tearing Dean right out of the driver’s seat and locking him away in a tiny, cramped corner of his own mind, forcefully stripping the hunter of any control he’d once had over his own body.

But Cas’ approach was entirely different—careful and gentle, like he was afraid he might hurt the hunter somehow, which for some reason was oddly reassuring, making the human feel calmer and safe, even if he knew he'd had no real reason to worry about this from the very beginning. So Dean just closed his eyes, waiting for that familiar numbness to take over when Cas finally took control of his body and pushed him into the backseat.

Only that didn’t happen, and Dean frowned after a few seconds, glancing down at his hand and lifting it, flexing his fingers carefully, confused that he still seemed to have full control of his body.

“Cas?” he asked, glancing down at the unconscious—well,  _dead_  would actually be the right term—body now lying right next to him on the bed. Cas’ vessel had tumbled backwards onto the mattress as soon as the angel had left it, and now Jimmy Novak’s vacant body laid completely still on top of the rumpled covers, his chest unmoving, lacking the normal rising and falling pattern of a living, breathing human.

Had something gone wrong? Should Dean really be conscious right now? How could he—

_Everything is fine, Dean. I will not take control of your body. There is no reason for me to do that. It is in no way necessary for me to accomplish any of my current tasks._

The sound of Cas’ voice was loud and clear, like the angel was still sitting right in front of him on the bed, but it actually was coming from inside Dean’s head, seeming to echo all around him, bouncing off the walls of his skull, and the hunter flinched when he first heard it, jumping a little in surprise. He felt his body to relax soon enough, though, and when Cas’ words finally registered in his mind, the hunter found himself nodding.

“Right,” he breathed out. That made sense, and it actually made him feel a lot better about this. He felt better about being in control. He felt... safer. He liked that.

Everything was unnervingly silent during the moment that followed—both in the room around him and inside the hunter's head, which probably meant that Cas had started to work on his tasks, that the angel was now attempting to do the three things Dean had asked him to. It took less than a full minute for the hunter to grow anxious, though, and the feeling grew so strong so fast that soon enough his leg started bouncing because of his impatience. He was unsure if he should be doing something, if he should be trying to help somehow. He felt bothered that he was just... sitting there, doing absolutely nothing helpful. But what could he possibly—

_There is nothing you can do to help, Dean._

Dean’s entire body froze at the sound of those words, and he sat up a bit straighter on the bed. A small spark of fear came to life inside his chest, and there was a slight tremble to his voice when he asked, “Wait, you can… you can hear my thoughts?” Michael hadn't done that, or at least he hadn't made it clear that he might be able to do it, anyway. But then again, Michael hadn't actually  _talked_ to Dean during the time the archangel had been possessing him. Michael had simply ignored him most of the time, choosing to basically just let Dean drown over and over again, the hunter's endless, desperate screams coming out choked and going completely unheard throughout all those weeks.

But if Cas could actually hear every single one of Dean's thoughts right now, well, then this whole thing was about a thousand times more complicated than the hunter had originally thought it would be. Dean's insides were suddenly filled with panic at the mere thought of it, because that meant that Cas might end up hearing something that Dean didn't want him to hear; it meant that Cas could very easily—

Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea, after all.

_Right now, I can only hear your immediate thoughts, Dean. I won’t delve into your subconscious just yet. I do not wish to invade your privacy more than I already am, not unless I absolutely have to. However, I may need to go deeper into your mind to uncover any memories from your time with Michael._

Dean's mind, of course, was the very opposite of soothed when the hunter heard those words. Cas could hear everything he was thinking right now, every single thought that happened to cross the hunter's mind, and then later on the angel might proceed to poke around in Dean's subconscious, going through much more personal thoughts and memories, very possibly digging up things that Dean had locked away for several reasons, that the hunter had shoved deep, deep down in his mind, buried under countless layers that he had never intended to remove. Fuck, Cas might actually end up stumbling upon—

No.  _No._  Definitely not thinking about  _that_  right now. He couldn't fucking—

_Dean, if you want me to stop, I'll stop right now. You're clearly not okay with this._

Dean hurried to shake his head, squeezing his eyes shut, hands gripping the edge of the bed even more tightly than before. "No! No. Cas, it's... it's fine, really. I'm fine. It's just... I didn't know you'd be able to do that, that's all." As if Cas didn't know he was lying right then; as if the angel couldn't hear every single thought that was going through the hunter's head in that moment, including the ones currently shouting at him that those words were not entirely true.

There was a beat of silence, which of course only made Dean even more anxious. His heart was hammering inside his chest by that point, loud and frantic, making his internal turmoil even more obvious, but he just fixated his gaze on a particular spot on the floor by his feet and concentrated on it, trying to clear his mind, to keep it as empty as possible, attempting to make sure no unwanted thoughts would decide to make an appearance right then, his entire body growing tense because of the effort.

The hunter was so invested in that task that the sound of Cas' voice echoing inside his head again actually startled him, though he didn't jump in surprise this time.

_I promise you, Dean; I will be careful. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable by wandering into any part of your mind that you do not want me to see. I will do my best to only stir up the memories from your time with Michael. However, I can't... I do believe a few unrelated memories might end up being brought to the forefront of your mind by accident, and there is no way to avoid me seeing those as well._

That wasn't exactly what Dean wanted to hear right then, but it did make him feel just a tiny bit better. If Cas really did end up needing to poke around in Dean's subconscious, he wouldn't see  _everything_  that there was to see there;he wouldn't learn every single one of Dean's secrets; he wouldn't uncover all the private thoughts and memories the hunter did not want the angel to see, that the human had hidden away in the darkest corners of his mind, then attempted to throw away the key. And Cas would be careful. He would only try to uncover the memories they needed to see right now, the memories that might help them find a way to defeat Michael, and while the angel might end up digging up a couple of memories that had nothing to do with the archangel, Cas wouldn't necessarily be bringing back unwanted, private memories. There were a lot of memories to choose from in Dean's mind, and not all of them were bad or private, so maybe Cas would just end up stirring up some random memory from a hunt and that would be it—no harm done.

Yeah. Dean could deal with this. It was fine.  _He_  would be fine. There was no reason for him to freak out about this.

Holding on a bit too tightly to those thoughts, Dean finally allowed his body to relax just a little bit. He let out a heavy breath, nodding again, though the movement turned out a bit too tight and strained this time, probably because his muscles were still a little tense. “Okay, uh… Yeah. That's... that's good. Thanks, Cas.”

He didn’t get a response, that same loaded, uncomfortable silence from before draping over them once again, blanketing them just as it had done earlier, but this time it felt even heavier, almost suffocating. And during the minutes that followed, Dean went right back to shifting his weight on the bed every few seconds, fidgeting nonstop as he waited for something to happen, leg bouncing so fast that he might as well be trying to drill a hole into the floor with his foot.

It took a few minutes for something else to finally happen, for something to  _change_ , but at some point, Dean felt a warm feeling blooming inside his chest, growing stronger with every beat of his heart, but not in an unpleasant way. It spread slowly, reaching out of his chest and toward his limbs with shy, curious tendrils, enveloping his entire body like a soft, fluffy blanket. He wasn’t sure what to make of the new, completely foreign sensation, so the hunter finally broke that heavy silence, asking a quiet, “Cas?”

_Michael did damage your body, but not too severely,_ was the seraph’s calm response.  _I believe I can repair most of the damage, but it’s nothing too serious. You should heal fine on your own once I’m done._

Dean could only nod in response, not trusting his voice enough to try and say anything else right then.

A few more minutes passed, and that odd, warm sensation continued to simmer gently under Dean’s skin, burning feebly just beneath the surface, like a low, weak electrical current running through his nerves, causing weirdly pleasant goosebumps to run all over his body and making the tips of his fingers and toes tingle.

Until it all stopped without a warning, and Cas’ voice filled Dean’s head once more.

_Your body is almost completely healed, and you should recover fully without any problems._   _I’ll look for Michael now._

"Okay," Dean whispered, nodding weakly, though he wasn’t sure what  _looking_  for Michael actually entailed. There couldn’t be too many places for an archangel to hide in Dean’s body, right? And considering Cas was literally  _inside_ of him right now—nope.  _Nope._ Wrong wording. Poor choice of words. Didn’t mean to think that.

_Fuck,_ Cas had definitely heard that.

“Just be careful, Cas,” Dean hurried to say, before either of them had to deal with whatever would follow  _that_ comment. The hunter's voice sounded a little too urgent and rushed, betraying his panic and making any hope he'd had of sounding completely calm and nonchalant right then crumble to dust. His heart jumped inside his chest, picking up a much faster rhythm all of a sudden, and he could only hope that Cas wouldn't connect the dots, that the angel wouldn't be able to figure out exactly why that had happened. “Because… Well, you know. He… he might still be in there.”

Dean’s entire body was flooded with relief when Cas just took it all in stride. All the angel said was a solemn, _Of course, Dean,_ voice sounding completely calm and normal, as though there was absolutely nothing wrong in the world, as if nothing weird or ridiculously embarrassing had just happened. And then the angel grew silent once again, completely ignoring Dean’s poorly phrased comment.

Thank  _God_  for that.

Actually, no, scratch that. Chuck had nothing to do with this.

Unsurprisingly, Dean felt even more anxious after that, leg still bouncing uncontrollably as he waited and waited and fucking  _waited,_ now more intent than ever on keeping his mind empty and completely devoid of any unwanted thoughts. It was a lot harder to do that now, however, and by the time Cas finally broke the silence again, Dean was practically glaring at that spot on the floor from earlier, honestly considering just standing up from the bed so that he could start pacing around the room like a freaking crazy person in order to try and make himself busy, to somehow take his mind off of what was happening right now, to distract himself a little before he had a heart attack or a stroke or something because of this.

_I cannot locate Michael, Dean._

His leg stopped bouncing as soon as Dean heard those words. That was a good thing, wasn't it? If Cas couldn't find Michael, that had to mean the bastard was gone, right?

_Not necessarily._   _He… he could be hiding in your subconscious. I can’t tell._

Dean didn't even have the chance to register his annoyance about the fact that he hadn't even said anything out loud and Cas had still answered his question, because suddenly all the hunter could really think about was the fact that Cas would actually need to go into his subconscious, that the angel was probably going to do that right now, and Dean definitely didn't feel ready for that. His heart picked up a much faster pace again, and he closed his eyes, squeezing them shut as he reminded himself of the train of thought that had calmed him down earlier, about how Cas would be careful and wouldn't look through all his private memories and thoughts, but for some reason, that just wasn't working anymore.

Fuck. Get a fucking grip, Winchester.

_Dean, I don't think I should—_

"Just do it, Cas," Dean pushed the words out of his mouth while he still could, before he changed his mind about this. They had to do this. They had to get this done. They needed to find that weapon in order to have even the slightest chance of defeating Michael, and this was the only way to do that. They didn't have a choice.  _Dean_  didn't have a choice. "Let's just get this over with. Please."

_But you're obviously not comfortable with this. We can find another way. I don't want to cause you any—_

"I said do it, Cas!"

His words were met with silence, and only a couple of seconds later, Dean already regretted having yelled them out like that. Guilt filled his chest, sharp and ugly and almost painful, and the human's entire body sagged a little under the weight of it, a big, tired breath finding its way out of his mouth. Fuck, Cas was here, helping him with something in the middle of the night instead of doing, well, whatever the seraph would rather be doing right now, and Dean was being a total jerk to him. The angel was just trying to make sure that the hunter was truly okay with this, that he wouldn't cross any lines the human didn't want him to cross, being nothing but considerate and kind as he did it, and what did Dean do to thank him for it? Fucking yell at him. What a great friend he was.

Dean sighed, shoulders still hanging low with the weight of his guilt. "Cas, I'm... I'm sorry. I'm just..." He shook his head, licking his lips, then opened his eyes, letting them dart all around the room as he tried and failed to find the right words to say in that moment. It took him a while to finally find an excuse that actually made sense. "I'm just... still on edge, I guess. I mean, a day ago, I was still possessed. I just... Fuck, I'm just sorry, okay?"

_It is forgotten, Dean._

There was no hesitation, not even a single pause for consideration before the words echoed inside Dean's head. And just like before, there was absolutely no resentment in Cas' voice, not even the smallest hint of hurt, even if Dean knew he would have deserved it, even if the hunter was convinced that he didn't deserve to be forgiven so easily.

He chose not to focus on that right now, however, and instead swallowed drily, forcing his next words out of his mouth before his resolve wavered again.

"But I mean it, Cas," he whispered. His voice sounded far too small and weak, but he didn't let that stop him. "I really need you to do this. Just... just do it, please."

_Are you sure, Dean?_

Of course Cas would ask that again. Dean really shouldn't be surprised to hear those words now, honestly, but he still paused to consider the question.

No, he wasn't sure. The single thought of Cas coming across certain thoughts and memories in the deepest levels of his mind was already too much for him; it already had the hunter's heart beating faster in his chest and the air feeling thinner in his lungs, but Dean forced himself to swallow all of that down. They really had to do this. This was the only lead they had on a way to defeat Michael, and they had to follow it. They really didn't have a choice.

And again, it wasn't like Cas would definitely stumble upon something Dean didn't want the angel to see, so maybe he really was freaking out for no reason.

Somehow, Dean managed to make himself nod, though the muscles in his neck were far too tense for the movement to turn out calm and believable like the hunter had intended it to. His voice was still way too weak and hoarse when he replied, "Yeah, I'm sure."

Cas still hesitated for a moment, it seemed, because nothing happened right away. But Dean still allowed his eyes to slip closed again, muscles tense and ready for whatever was about to happen, expectation growing heavy and thick in his gut, sitting in his belly like a big block of lead.

And suddenly, there was pain.

Dean gasped, body folding forward abruptly as a sharp pain made itself known inside his head. It hurt—it hurt  _so fucking much_ —and Dean wanted to scream, wanted to thrash around to try and get away from the invisible needles currently burying themselves into his brain, but his head was spinning and he couldn't feel anything, couldn't figure out how to get his body to do what he wanted and fucking  _move._ His head was spinning too fast, his muscles were completely unresponsive and he had no idea where he was; all he knew was that he was falling and falling and he couldn't fucking—

_Vampires, werewolves—any monster he could get his hands on, really. He'd cut their throats and let their blood flow into a brass goblet, handpicked by him specifically for that purpose. The creatures wouldn't die from it, of course—they were monsters, after all, resilient, not terribly fragile like the weak, pitiful little bugs that humans had turned out to be. And it wasn't like he would take too much from them, anyway. No, he would only take what was necessary; just what the spell required. Then he would add his Grace to the mixture, and feed it to the monsters. That was how he would make his perfect beasts._

_There were a few bumps along the way, of course. No experiment was perfect, and his was no exception. Many of his chosen creatures had died, burned from the inside out due to an excess of archangel Grace in the spell mixture, their entrails liquefied, insides turned to nothing more than useless char. Their bodies had piled up on the floor, completely forgotten, as they were no longer of any use to him. It took many tries, many failed attempts, but eventually, he finally got it right. He found the perfect recipe._

_Of course he did._

The images flashed in his mind, vivid and awfully clear, as if they were actually real, as if they truly were happening right then, playing right in front of his eyes. Words echoed in his ears, loud and real, while his muscles moved without his consent, mimicking movements he knew were not truly his.

Or maybe they were. He honestly couldn't tell.

_"This is your fault, Dean!"_

_He shrunk in on himself, squeezing his eyes shut tightly, feeling them burn with unshed tears, his jaw trembling as he stubbornly gritted his teeth together. He wouldn't cry. Not in front of his father. He couldn't disappoint him like that._

_"You were supposed to be looking after him, Dean! I told you! Look after your little brother, boy! That's all I ask of you!"_

_The first few tears slipped past his closed eyelids without his permission, sliding down his cheeks, and he felt a spark of dread coming to life inside his chest as soon as he felt it. A small choked sob jumped from his lips before he could stop it._

_Why was he like this? Why couldn't he just do something right, for once? Make his father proud?_

It hurt.  _Fuck,_  it hurt. He truly felt like someone was trying to break his skull open with a fucking sledgehammer, though there was nothing he could do but grit his teeth together tightly and endure it.

And he wasn't even sure if that was actually real, either; if the jaw he was clenching almost painfully was truly his own, or merely the ghost of yet another memory. He wasn't sure of anything anymore.

_A woman—a werewolf. Her eyes were golden, sharp, canine teeth bared as she snarled, human nails smoothly giving place to long, sharp claws. She pounced forward, trying to attack him, to hurt him, as though he were a weak human, nothing more than an easy meal she'd picked up at a bar. Her attempt to cause an archangel harm was truly humorous, if not utterly ridiculous, but he didn't dwell on that train of thought, as much as it amused him._

_Instead, he effortlessly flung her across the room with a single flick of his wrist, the sound of her body hitting the wall behind her loud and dry, though it wasn't followed by the sound of bones cracking as they broke, or her agonized screams as he used a small burst of his power to melt her from the inside out with nothing more than a single thought._

_No. He needed her alive._

_For now._

There was something cold touching his palms, something hard and firm, and he pressed his hands against it, trying to move it, to figure out if it was truly real, but he couldn't be sure. Somewhere deep in his mind, in a dark, forgotten corner of his conscience, a thought occurred to him, just a fleeting little thing that barely even registered, that barely even made sense. He had no idea where it had come from, or what it meant, but it was there.

Maybe that was the floor. Maybe he'd fallen off the bed at some point. He wouldn't be surprised.

Those odd, senseless thoughts were gone only a second later, however, fading away to nothing, giving place to more images, more memories that flooded his brain and left him gasping for air and wishing that his head would just  _stop spinning._

_"Are you going soft on me, Squirrel? Feeling homesick yet?"_

_He glared, then downed the rest of his whiskey without a thought, throwing the shot glass back in one fluid motion, enjoying the burn of it as the alcohol slid down his throat._

_"Fuck off, Crowley," he hissed, allowing his eyes to flash black for only a second, making his annoyance clear._

_"Now, tell me, just between us girls," the King sang, apparently completely unaffected by the threatening display, a spark of mischief clear in his eyes, his voice mocking, teasing. It made him want to reach down Crowley's throat and pull out the conceited demon's vocal cords with his own bare hands, then feed him the bloody things again, make that poor excuse for a King choke on them. That sounded pretty entertaining, actually. He filed that idea away for later. "You miss either of them? Your brother? Your boyfriend?"_

_He glared again, but did not take the bait. Crowley could be very annoying sometimes, but his jokes were pointless, useless. Nothing but a waste of time and air, just like the demon who'd made them._

_He didn't miss anyone. He didn't **care**  anymore._

_He'd kill them both right now if they were here, and he would love every second of it. He would love every scream, every plea for mercy, every attempt at trying to find even the slightest hint of humanity within him, buried somewhere deep inside the damned creature he'd become, hidden under endless layers of blood and demon smoke. He'd love to watch as the light faded from their eyes._

_He'd kill Crowley, too, when he lost his patience._

_And by the looks of it, that wouldn't take long at all._

He could see a door, made out of dark brown wood. It was closed, but it was also blurry and moving, straight lines curved and dancing right before his eyes, as if it were made of jelly instead of hard, solid wood; as if he were looking at it from underwater; as though it weren't even real to begin with.

In that moment, Dean wasn't even sure that it was. 

_People. He'd killed several. Too many to count, to remember._

_"What do you want?" he would ask each one, every time._

_He was never pleased with the answer, never impressed._

_They didn't deserve his mercy, his pity. This world didn't deserve it._

He could no longer discern the images from reality. He could no longer tell if the memories were the brief glimpses of the floor, wall and door, or the parade of unfamiliar colors, voices and smells dancing right before his eyes, slipping into his ears, invading all of his senses. He could no longer remember where he was.

He couldn't even remember  _who_  he was. 

_There were cuts all over his face, deep, bloody tears that had been delivered to his flesh by several blows of a sharp blade, and they stung. Fuck, they really stung, and his broken arm hurt like a fucking bitch, too, but he ignored all of that._

_He had a much more important issue to deal with at the moment—namely, the figure currently hovering right above him with an Angel Blade gripped tightly in their hand, weapon raised high in the air, ready to deliver one last, deadly blow._

_"Cas, please..." he begged from the spot where he was currently kneeling on the floor, staring up at the angel. The light shining overhead washed over the seraph's form just the right way, creating the mocking illusion of a halo around the angel's head._

_Please don't do this. This isn't you, Cas. This isn't you._

_"We're family. We need you," he whispered, voice broken and desperate as he stared up at those empty blue eyes. They didn't look right, glassy and completely devoid of emotion, but he still insisted, still let out a weak, pleading, "I need you."_

_The words he truly wished to say in that moment went unsaid. They hung from the tip of his tongue, dangling, ready to fall, to be said._

_But he couldn't do it._

He could taste blood in his mouth, and he wasn't sure if he'd bitten his tongue or the inside of his mouth. He wasn't even sure if the sensation was part of a memory, just the faint, empty echo of something that had already happened long ago, or if it was truly happening right now.

There was nothing he could do about it either way.

_A forest. There was dirt underneath him, staining his clothes, but that was the least of his worries in that moment._

_A hooded figure stood before him, hovering above him, and this time, he was impressed, surprised. He hadn't expected a fight, a challenge. He hadn't yet found something of that sort here; hadn't actually found a worthy opponent in this world._

_The figure buried its weapon—a long spear with two blades attached to one end—into his arm, and it hurt, it **hurt.**  He screamed before he could stop it, pain flooding his borrowed nerves as the weapon tore into his flesh._

_How could it **hurt?**_

He wanted it to stop. He wanted it over.

Why wasn't it  _over?_

_He couldn't be gone. He couldn't be... He just couldn't be..._

_But he was. The ground was marked, two huge, dark scorch marks painted onto the soil, each on either side of the seraph, a perfect image of what Cas' wings had looked like._

_Before they'd burned away to nothing. Before the angel had died, right in front of his eyes._

_His hands shook, and he closed them into fists, feeling the air far too thin in his lungs, his chest tight, heart aching. He felt like someone had just reached into his ribcage and gripped at his heart, squeezing it in their fist, then pulled it out and tossed it away, leaving nothing more than a bloody, gaping hole in its wake. His eyes burned, and he blinked once, twice, thrice, trying to keep the tears at bay._

_"Cas, please." His voice was low, feeble, an empty echo of what it once was. Sorrow was already settling within him, it seemed, even if he couldn't yet process it. "Please. I can't. Fuck, I can't..."_

_I can't lose you._

_A choked sound, a weird cross between a word and a sob jumped from his lips, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Blind hands reached forward, grasping at the familiar fabric of Cas' trench coat with shy, trembling fingers, looking for some sort of comfort, something to make him steady, to keep him grounded._

_It did not work._

_He opened his eyes again, somehow forcing himself to look, to take in, to process. It hurt, and he couldn't fucking breathe, but he didn't look away, instead forcing himself to stare at the motionless, lifeless form of the angel who'd come to mean more to him than he had ever meant to allow._

_The angel he'd fallen for._

_In a careless, grief-guided moment, he threw all care to the wind and leaned closer to Cas, a gentle hand moving to cradle the side of the seraph's face carefully. Cas' skin was still warm, and somehow that only made this even worse. That realization punched a weak, shaky breath right out of his mouth._

_He pressed a small, feather-light kiss to those far-too-still, unresponsive lips, then whispered the three words he'd been too much of a coward to tell the angel while he'd still had the chance, the three words he'd wished to say to Cas so many times before, but that he'd never managed to push past his lips._

_And that now fell onto deaf, unhearing ears._

_"I love you."_

“Cas, get  _out!”_

It happened fast, very much so. There was no nervous expectation, no doubt, no waiting. In the blink of an eye, Dean felt like his body had suddenly been stretched to its limits, pulled from all directions until his muscles were literally about to rip.

And then it was over. All that pressure, all that strain vanished without a warning only a second later, and Dean felt all the air leaving his lungs at once, like he'd just received a punch right to his stomach. Light filled the room, unnaturally bright and ethereal just like before, leaving his body through his mouth and slithering through the air, but Dean didn't watch it travel across the room to find Jimmy's body again; he didn't watch as Cas reclaimed his own vessel.

No, as soon as the angel was gone, Dean's entire body collapsed, limbs simply giving out, crumbling under him as his hands and feet seemed to no longer be able to support his weight. He fell on his stomach, body hitting the cold floor with a low, muffled thud—so he really had fallen off the bed, then—gasping for breath, heart beating so loudly in his ears that he was sure everyone else in the Bunker could hear it, the erratic, frantic drumming of it seeming to be echoing off the walls all around him. His heartbeat didn't slow down as the seconds went by, though, and at some point, Dean wondered if he should be worried that he might actually be about to have a heart attack.

Somehow, he managed to roll onto his back after a while, breathing still far too heavy and heart still trying to jump right out of his ribcage. He stared up blindly at the ceiling a few feet above him, focusing his eyes on the light bulb shining overhead, even though he knew that was a pretty stupid thing to do.

He didn't feel right. His body didn't feel weird and unresponsive like it had when Michael had left, like it was suddenly far too big and heavy for him, like it didn't  _belong_  to him. He just felt... not quite right, and he wasn't sure what to make of that. His mind was still racing, still struggling to process that this was real; that he was back in control of his mind and body, back to reality; that Cas was out of his head now, and that everything he'd seen had been memories—either his own or Michael's, but memories nonetheless.

Nothing happened for a while, though Dean had no idea how much time had actually passed. The only sound that filled the air of the room for what must have been minutes was the one of his own heavy breathing, the rest of the Bunker completely silent, almost unnervingly so in comparison to how it had been earlier—low, muffled voices echoing through the air almost constantly and people—complete  _strangers_ , mostly—wandering basically  _everywhere_. However, he was certain that he would've been able to hear a pin drop now.

It was actually quite a surprise that neither Sam nor Jack had yet burst through that door, after all the yelling Dean had done earlier. Now  _that_  was a real miracle.

The sound of rustling suddenly filled the air at some point, coming from Dean's left, sounding far too loud in the dead silence that had taken over the room up until then and making the hunter tense up abruptly, especially when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He kept his gaze stubbornly focused on the light bulb above him as Cas kneeled down next to him, refusing to look at the angel.

"Dean?"

Dean didn't respond, of course. Honestly, he was pretty sure that he wouldn't have been able to find his voice to do it, even if he'd wanted to.

"Dean, you're hurt," Cas tried again, voice low, just a careful whisper, but the hunter still gave him no response. "You seem to have bitten the inside of your mouth."

Oh, okay, so that had been real, then. He swallowed, feeling the familiar taste of blood in his mouth, strong and metallic, though he couldn't quite register any pain, couldn't quite find the spot where he'd apparently chewed on his own flesh while his mind had been flooded with memories earlier. He was still pretty out of it, though, mind still weirdly foggy, thoughts muddled and messy, body feeling heavy and worryingly numb, so maybe that explained it. He winced at the taste of blood insistently clinging to the inside of his mouth, but had no other reaction to the angel's words, still refusing to even look at the seraph.

The hand that suddenly started moving toward him was the only thing that managed to get a reaction out of Dean, and the hunter's entire body jerked upward without a thought as soon as he noticed it, sitting up in a jolt on the cold floor and quickly trying to scoot away from the approaching hand, but he didn't move fast enough. Cas' hand reached him before he could get away, the tips of the angel's fingers pressing lightly against the human's forehead, and a tingling sensation bloomed in Dean's mouth, one that he was pretty familiar with by now, considering how many times Cas had healed him over the years.

The sensation was gone only a second later, and Dean scooted even farther away from Cas as soon as it was over. He only stopped when there were at least a few feet between them, only to let his eyes slip closed again. He bowed his head, shaking it as his hands rose in the air to grip at his hair, tugging painfully at the short, light brown strands they found there. The pain was a good thing right now, though; it grounded him, like a reminder that this was really happening, that it was all  _real_. His mind felt a lot more coherent now, but with that clarity, came a wave of fear and panic when it finally registered that Cas had definitely seen every single one of the events Dean had just relived inside his head, that the angel had watched every single one of those far-too-vivid memories through Dean's—and Michael's—eyes as if they were his own.

Fuck, what the hell was Dean supposed to say right now? He couldn't even  _look_  at Cas. The angel had seen too much,  _way_  too much—way more than Dean had ever meant to share with him.

Fuck, Cas had seen... He'd  _heard_...

Fuck.  _Fuck._

This really had been a terrible,  _terrible_  idea.

Still refusing to look at Cas, Dean gritted his teeth together, clenching his jaw. He swallowed thickly, drily, before he finally found his voice again, though it came out like nothing more than a low, weak croak when he asked, "Is he still in there?"

"Dean, I—"

"Is Michael still here, Cas?" His voice grew louder then, stronger, sharper, but this time, Dean couldn't find it in himself to feel bad about it. Panic had completely taken over by then; his mind was filled with fear, with dread, so strong and disorienting that the hunter could barely even think straight. There wasn't much room for anything else in his mind right now, not even guilt.

Cas didn't respond right away, but Dean still didn't lift his head or open his eyes to try and read the seraph's silence. He wasn't sure what he would find if he looked up at Cas right then, what look he would find in those blue eyes, what emotions he would see painted upon the angel's features, but he was too scared to find out.

"I couldn't feel him anywhere," Cas finally responded. His voice was unnervingly heavy and somber, even lower than normal, and the words sounded... odd, like the angel was struggling to push them out of his mouth. "I did not have the chance to... to look for him as thoroughly as I would have liked, but still... I believe I should have sensed him, if he were here. So... no. I do not think he is still here."

Dean nodded tightly, slowly, clenching his jaw again. He wasn't particularly happy with that answer, of course, but he figured that was the best one he would get. He had expelled Cas before the angel had had the chance to really look for Michael, so it was his own damn fault that they couldn't be sure. And the hunter's mind did feel a little soothed anyway, because according to Cas, he hadn't sensed Michael anywhere, even if the seraph hadn't gone  _too_  deep into Dean's subconscious, and that had to mean something, right? An archangel shouldn't be too hard to find, Dean imagined, so maybe this was all the confirmation they needed to know that the bastard was really gone.

Regardless, the hunter did feel a little better, and he held on to that feeling as he filed that specific topic away for the time being.

That wasn't the only reason why they'd done this, after all.

"I'll call Jody tomorrow," he announced with a sigh, finally lifting his head, though he was quick to turn it and focus his gaze on the door instead of on the angel sitting on the floor just a few steps away from him. However, he could still see Cas out of the corner of his eye, and he swallowed drily as soon as he realized that. His voice sounded weaker and hoarser than he'd intended when he added, "She might know something about... the thing that hurt Michael. The one with the spear."

The hooded figure that had attacked Michael in that memory had looked exactly like the creature that had killed Kaia back in The Bad Place, though Dean had absolutely no freaking idea how that thing could have come to this world, since the rift Jack had opened with Kaia's help had closed as soon as Dean, Sam and Claire had gone through it and returned to this world. But Dean was suddenly very intent on solving that mystery, and the first step to accomplishing that would be calling Jody first thing tomorrow morning and asking her if she'd noticed anything weird or rift-related happening over at Sioux Falls. If she hadn't, well, then he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

Cas offered no response to Dean's words, and silence filled the room once again, though this was definitely the worst one yet. This time, the pause wasn't just tense or heavy—the air actually felt weird now, stale, like they'd suddenly entered an old, abandoned house where every single surface was covered in several decades' worth of dust, leaving the air around them completely loaded with it, making it considerably harder to breathe. Dean definitely didn't feel like he was getting enough oxygen into his lungs, and he guessed the fact that his heartbeat had yet to return to a normal, steady pace wasn't exactly helping with that at all. Also, he could actually  _feel_  Cas' eyes on him, burning into the side of his face, the weight of that heavy, unwavering stare far too real on his shoulders, unsettling as it seemed to drag against his skin.

He felt like he might actually suffocate if he stayed in that room for much longer, if he spent even another minute being so thoroughly examined by that intense, measuring gaze, so he really had to do something about that. He had to get out of that room. 

An idea occurred to him when he thought about what he'd been about to do earlier, before he'd noticed the scar on his arm, and suddenly he had a plan.

So without another thought, Dean finally managed to make himself move again, lifting his body from the floor with a low grunt. Fortunately, he didn't feel like he needed to learn how to walk again like he had right after Michael had left—at first, his wobbly legs had actually struggled to support his weight, taking a while to finally remember how to respond to his brain's orders, how to do what Dean wanted them to. And while his legs weren't exactly steady now, his balance didn't waver too dangerously once he was standing, and he successfully managed to make his way over to the closet a few steps away without any accidents and without feeling the need to press his hand against anything for support.

And without looking at Cas, of course.

He started looking through his clothes as soon as he opened the closet doors, letting a hand rub against the fabric of a few of his plaid shirts, the feeling of them against his palm familiar and grounding, soothing something deep inside of him, down in his very core. The familiarity steadied him somehow, and he let his hand linger there for a moment before he finally chose a shirt—the red plaid one that he liked so much. He picked a black t-shirt to go underneath it and a pair of clean underwear, then grabbed a pair of jeans as an afterthought, because apparently there was a small brigade of hunters living in the Bunker now and Dean definitely did not want to run into anyone while in his underwear, especially not a complete stranger.

When he was satisfied with the clothes he'd chosen, he pushed the closet doors closed slowly, being careful not to make too much noise, and turned around, ready to start walking toward the door of the room so that he could put his latest plan into action.

And then he jumped about a foot in the air, because suddenly Cas was standing  _right there_ , just  _staring_  at him, and for fuck's sake, Dean hadn't even heard him  _move._

" _Jesus!"_  he exclaimed before he could stop it, bringing a hand up to press it against his chest. And then he froze, breath getting caught in his throat as soon as his brain finally registered what was happening in that moment.

The look in Cas' eyes was heavy. There was a deep frown in the angel's brows as he watched Dean, as he carefully examined the hunter's expression, blue gaze so intense that he might as well be trying to memorize every single detail of the man's face. The seraph's eyes seemed darker than normal, and they carried a clear hint of worry, along with what Dean assumed to be confusion, or maybe it was curiosity; he couldn't be sure.

Dean wanted to look away. He wanted to tear his gaze away from the sight of the angel standing right in front of him and just run out of that room as fast as his leg would allow. He wanted a hole to open up in the floor between them so that he could jump right into it, just so he could get away from this whole situation. He wanted to pretend that this whole thing had never happened, to never talk about it ever again, or even think about it, for that matter.

He wanted to go back in time and slap his past-self for having the stupid fucking idea of letting Cas possess him in the first place.

But none of those scenarios was actually realistic—well, except for the one about him running out of the room, but Dean just couldn't get his legs to move in order to actually go through with it. His feet seemed to be glued to their spot on the floor, so all Dean was able to do in that moment was stare at Cas with wide, fearful eyes, muscles tense, mentally bracing himself for whatever was about to happen.

"Dean."

Cas' voice was soft, tender, as though he were speaking to a frightened, wild animal and he was afraid to startle it. His gaze seemed to soften then, and Dean had no idea what the hell that change meant, but the sight was already enough to jolt the hunter right out of his trance, and he finally found his voice again.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," he announced, lifting the small pile of clean clothes he was holding in his hands just a few inches in the air to illustrate his words. "Thanks for... you know, helping me and all, Cas. I'm beat, though, so... I'll just go take quick a shower and hit the hay."

Somehow, he finally managed to make his legs move once those words were out of his mouth—yet another miracle—so he started to round Cas, slowly stepping forward and around the angel, but before he could actually start putting some distance between them and walk toward the door, a hand suddenly shot out, moving quickly through the air so that it could grip his arm, attempting to stop the hunter and hold him in place.

He didn't even think about it. He still didn't feel quite right; he was still a bit jittery and his thoughts were still a complete mess inside his head, so maybe it wasn't all that surprising that Dean's first reaction to the unexpected touch was to yank his arm back and right out of the angel's grasp as fast as he could, as though he'd been burned.

And he regretted it immediately, as soon as he realized what he'd done. The soft, careful look in Cas' eyes melted away in a second, and it was quickly replaced by something ugly and painful. Sadness and hurt flooded those azure globes the moment Dean's arm was so abruptly ripped from the seraph's grasp, and the sight made the hunter's heart shatter into a million pieces, guilt flooding his chest once more, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

He didn't apologize, though. No, the next thing that came out of Dean's mouth was a hoarse, pleading, "Cas, just... you should go. I need a break, or something. Just... go, please." 

If possible, Cas' face fell even more at the sound of those words. At this rate, the angel could definitely give Sam's trademark puppy dog look a run for its money.

"Dean, I don't think..." Cas paused, apparently changing his mind about whatever he'd been about to say. He shook his head minutely, then tried again, "I think we should probably—"

Nope. Not happening.

"Cas,  _please,_ " Dean begged, cutting Cas off before the angel could finish that sentence, "Just... just go. Please, I don't... I really can't do this. I can't deal with this right now."

He didn't even wait for a response; he just darted right out of that room without another glance behind, steps hurried and echoing loudly through the air of the eerily silent Bunker. He was very relieved when he realized that Cas didn't try to follow him.

Dean could only hope that the angel would do as he'd asked and leave; that the seraph would be long gone when the hunter returned to his room; that he'd give Dean some space, at least for tonight.

He wasn't exactly hopeful about that, but he chose to push those thoughts away for now.

Dean's shower was tense. His plan had seemed like a pretty good idea at first, like a very effective way to get away from Cas and whatever conversation the angel may want to have with him, but there was a pretty big flaw in it, and the hunter only realized it when it was already too late.

Showers had a tendency to make one's mind wander, and he was no exception to that rule.

And that meant that Dean ended up spending several minutes just standing there under that warm spray of water, countless thoughts running through his head, far too many emotions swirling around in his gut for him to even process them all—guilt, fear, sadness, anger, nervous anticipation; the list was far too long for him to name every single one. Not even the perfect water pressure seemed to be enough to wash away the tension from his muscles, to allow him to relax even a little bit, much less make him forget about his problems, about what had happened back in his room, not even for just a little while.

The truth was—Dean just couldn't believe that he'd let this happen. It had been his fault—he had no doubts about that, because the idea to have Cas possess him and try to dig up the memories from his time with Michael had been entirely his, not Cas'. He had been the one to suggest it, the one who'd crossed the entire Bunker looking for the angel, and then invited him to his room so that they could put his stupid fucking plan into action. He'd been so  _desperate_ , so eager, so filled with hope and excitement at the thought of possibly finding a weapon that they could use against Michael that he had definitely not been thinking straight. And Cas had been so hesitant about the idea from the very beginning, asking Dean over and over again if the hunter really wanted to do it, if he was truly okay with it, almost like the angel had already  _known_  that it was a bad idea from the start, and that it wouldn't end well.

Dean should have been honest with him. He should have admitted that he hadn't been completely okay with it, that he'd changed his mind. He shouldn't have ignored all the alarms that had been ringing inside his head, especially when he'd realized that Cas could hear his thoughts. They could have found another way.  _Anything_  else would have been better than this. But because Dean was reckless and impulsive, because he hadn't actually thought the whole thing through, he'd thrown away over ten years' worth of effort, of struggling to keep his thoughts and feelings to himself, hidden away behind the tall, solid walls he'd built around himself over the years.

Because that's how long he'd been keeping this from Cas—ten years. And okay, sure, at first it had truly been nothing more than physical attraction, nothing beyond curiosity and his brain conjuring up far too many lewd images and scenarios starring the angel whenever it got the chance—Dean had been convinced that he'd go straight back to Hell because of it at some point, until he learned that God probably didn't care at all that the hunter was lusting after one of His angels—but it honestly hadn't taken too long for his attraction to change, for it to grow and evolve, becoming something much more complicated, something so terrifyingly deep and strong that Dean had lost several nights of sleep over it at some point. He'd fallen for Cas; there was just no other way to say it. But he'd been okay with keeping it a secret, with never actually getting what he wanted, with never having Cas the way he so desperately desired. He'd made his peace with that a long time ago.

But now Cas knew the truth. Fuck, he  _knew._  There was just no way to fix this, to play it off as nothing, as a joke or a misunderstanding. Cas had literally  _seen_  those memories, had lived every single one of them through Dean's eyes, and he hadn't simply watched those scenes unfold like he would with a movie. Cas had been inside his freaking  _head_ , which meant that he'd heard Dean's thoughts, too, not to mention felt what the hunter had been feeling during every memory, during every second of every scene.  _Fuck,_  what did Cas even think of him now? Was he disgusted? Uncomfortable? Betrayed? Dean had no idea what the angel's thoughts on this were, but he was certain that he wouldn't like it.

He might actually lose Cas because of this, and Dean was very much aware of that. Trying to pretend that everything was okay, that none of this had actually happened would definitely not work; he knew that for a fact. He honestly wouldn't be surprised if the angel completely pulled away from him after tonight, if the seraph intentionally grew distant in order to try to avoid the awkwardness that would certainly fill the air whenever they happened to be in the same room together; the unbearable, uncomfortable silences; the unspoken words that would without a doubt grow impossible to ignore now. Dean could almost see the sad, pitiful looks Cas would most likely be throwing his way from now on, and it  _fucking hurt._

Those thoughts made him feel dizzy, and Dean had to lean against the wall to his right for support, heart beating loud and fast in his ears once again. He closed his eyes, taking in a few slow, deep breaths to try and steady himself, to calm himself down, trying to clear his head from all those fears, from all the painful, unwanted thoughts currently filling his mind, swimming around inside his skull and making the world around him spin dangerously. The sound of running water would normally be soothing to him, but it was nothing more than useless background noise in that moment, and it did absolutely nothing to help.

And to make this all even worse, that wasn't even all. The whole situation with Cas wasn't the only thing he had to deal with right now; it wasn't the only reason why Dean suddenly felt so uncomfortable in his own skin, why the walls around him seemed to be constantly closing in, as if attempting to trap him, ready to crush him at any moment. He felt like there was a fist closed around his throat, trying to cut off his air supply, making it so much harder to breathe that he was already feeling light-headed because of it.

That had been too much for him—all of it.

The memory from his childhood wasn't all that bad. There had been a point in his life when it would have been enough to shake him, when the echo of his father's harsh words playing loud and clear inside his head would have had him feeling like a little kid all over again, even after he'd reached adulthood, even a few years after John's death. But at some point, Dean had apparently... outgrown it, in a way. It wasn't like everything he had gone through while he'd been a kid, everything that John had  _put_  him through didn't affect him anymore, because it did, in ways that he didn't even realize sometimes. That kind of stuff left a mark, one that would never fade, one that would undoubtedly be with Dean for the rest of his life. But he'd changed far too much since then; he'd gone through  _way too fucking much_  since John had died for that scene to truly rattle him, especially when that particular memory had honestly been one of the most mild ones he'd had to relive tonight.

Dean couldn't remember much from his time as a demon—or at least, the memories from those few months that he'd somehow managed to bring back and examine were hazy, foggy, almost like they were out of focus, but the little he remembered already had his stomach churning unpleasantly as shame and regret pooled into his gut. And the memory that Cas had uncovered from that time was no exception—he hated it, every word, every thought, everything that had happened during it, and he felt truly ashamed that Cas had seen it all, that the angel had taken a peek at the disgusting monster Dean had become because of that damn Mark.

But that memory wasn't the worst of it, even if it was a lot more vivid than any other Dean's mind had ever revisited before from his time as a Knight. In comparison to the other memories Cas had uncovered, to the ones that didn't actually _belong_  to him, that one really wasn't all that bad, and it hadn't exactly affected him all that much, either. It had done nothing more than simply leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

No, the real problem here were the memories from his time with Michael.

He could still hear the screams. They were faint, muffled, faraway echoes of all the people Michael had killed—with  _his_  hands,  _Dean's_  hands—but he still couldn't quite push any of them away. He could see their faces now, hear their voices, feel their fear as they'd begged for mercy before the archangel had killed them, before he'd squashed them like bugs without even a single drop of remorse, every single one of them. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his entire body shake as the scenes replayed over and over inside his head in an endless loop. For a moment, it was like Dean was back in his room, with Cas poking around in his mind, struggling to tell the memories apart from reality.

All those deaths, every single life that had been lost, taken by the hands of that fucking psychopath—it was all Dean's fault. He'd said yes to Michael. Sure, the archangel would have found another vessel eventually, Dean was sure of that, but he wouldn't be so powerful while wearing anyone else. He'd only been able to do so much damage because he'd been wearing  _Dean_ , his goddamn perfect vessel, so all that blood was on the hunter's hands, and nothing would ever change that.

At those thoughts, Dean opened his eyes, finally leaning away from the wall. His slightly unfocused gaze fell to his hands as he held them up right in front of his body, shaky and unsteady, and although the skin that covered them was clean, shiny and wet from the running water, Dean felt like he could see countless stains on them, dark and crimson and covering every single inch of the appendages, painting his skin with the blood of all the people the archangel had killed with them. And those stains might go unseen by everyone else, but Dean would always know that they were there, and no number of showers would ever wash them off.

He stayed under the spray until the water went cold, but as he stepped out of the shower and started to dry himself off with a clean towel, he felt just as uncomfortable and weird as he'd been when he'd first walked into that bathroom. If anything, his legs felt even less steady now, his muscles even more tense, ironically enough. His skin felt too tight around his bones, like it was suddenly a few sizes too small, if that even made sense. His head was still a mess, thoughts jumbled and going through his head way too fast, unwanted memories insistently replaying behind his eyelids, desperate, pained screams bouncing off the walls of his skull, threatening to drive him mad.

Yeah, he was definitely not getting any more sleep tonight. And even if he did manage to fall asleep again, he had a feeling those memories would come back to haunt him as soon as he was unconscious, turning all of his dreams into nightmares that would have him waking up in a sweat in the middle of the night, disoriented and scared that he was still possessed.

And he was  _so_  not looking forward to that.

Dean hesitated before leaving the bathroom once he was dressed, picking up his discarded clothes— _Michael's_  clothes—from the floor and holding the small pile in his hands for a moment, just staring down at the bundle of rumpled fabric as he debated on what to do with it. Part of him wanted to just throw all those clothes away, to just toss them into the big trash can in the corner and forget about it, never think about them again, but for some reason, that idea just didn't sit right with him. He wanted something else, something...  _more._

And that was precisely the reason why about five minutes later, Dean found himself walking out of the bathroom with the unwanted clothes still cradled in his arms. He'd made his decision by then, and he was very determined to follow through with it.

He would set fire to them the first chance he got, then watch as they burned away to nothing, taking with them whatever lingering traces of Michael's presence still remained in the fabric. That ought to make him feel better, right? Setting stuff on fire normally did.

He decided it was worth a shot, anyway.

He got to his room soon enough, but he paused right outside the door, just out of sight, hiding behind the wall as he hesitated for a moment. He really hoped that Cas was long gone by now, that the angel really had done what the hunter had asked him to and left the room, that the seraph had decided to respect the human's wishes and give him some space tonight, but suddenly Dean felt anxious as the thoughts he'd been trying exceptionally hard to avoid up until then quickly wormed their way back into his mind. What if Cas was still in there? What the hell was Dean supposed to do then?

He had no fucking idea, and the single thought of it already had the hunter's heart picking up a much faster pace inside his chest for what must have been the hundredth time that night, mouth growing dry like sandpaper. He pulled in a breath, trying to steady himself, before he finally forced his feet to move, doing his best not to think too much about it, stepping forward before his nerves could catch up to him again and make him change his mind about this, before his steps could falter and he found his feet glued to their spot on the floor just like before. It wasn't like he could just stand out there in the hallway all night, anyway. Simply waiting there, standing still as a statue and hiding behind a freaking wall wouldn't solve anything. If Cas really hadn't left, freaking out about it right outside his room wouldn't do anything to help; it wouldn't  _change_  anything. He would just be postponing the inevitable, and nothing more.

Keeping those thoughts in the forefront of his mind, Dean finally managed to make himself walk through that door and enter his room.

And then his stomach plummeted to the ground as soon as he was inside, as soon as his eyes registered the sight of Cas sitting on the edge of his bed, hands folded on his lap, clearly waiting for the human to return from his shower.

Dean froze by the door as soon as he caught sight of the seraph, grip growing tighter around the small bundle of clothes in his hands, already dreading whatever was about to happen here. His heartbeat grew even louder, heart skipping a beat as his steps halted, and he swallowed drily, struggling to keep his mind clear and coherent, refusing to let panic take over again. That would do the very opposite of helping right now; it might actually make things even worse, really.

Fuck, he really didn't want to deal with this right now.

But apparently, he wouldn't be getting much of a choice on the matter.

"You're still here." The words came out tired, accompanied by a heavy breath, and Dean's shoulders sagged at his sides as the handful of syllables rolled off his tongue. The hunter could only hope that whole scene would be enough to convince Cas that he truly was exhausted and in no mood to talk, but he wasn't exactly confident about that.

Cas either didn't get the message, or he just chose to ignore it. He simply frowned at the hunter, clearly confused, as though he hadn't been expecting to hear that comment, as if he didn't understand Dean's reaction to his presence there, as if it should have been obvious that he would completely ignore the human's request and stay in that room until Dean returned from his shower. The angel's voice was annoyingly calm when he replied, "Yes, I am."

Dean sighed again, shaking his head, lifting a hand to rub at his face and scratching at his beard like he always did when he felt anxious. "Well, I just really want to go to bed and try to get some sleep now, so..." He gestured at the open door behind him as he said it, lifting his hand in the air again and waving it carelessly in the general direction of the only way out of the room, even if he knew both comment and gesture were completely pointless and would probably not have the desired effect. But he didn't wait for a response—or even for a reaction, really—and instead simply tore his gaze away from Cas as soon as the words were out of his mouth and stepped aside, walking over to his desk by the wall to his left, where he deposited the small pile of clothes he'd brought with him from the bathroom. And just like before, he could practically  _feel_  the angel's eyes on him during every second of it, examining every single movement he made, watching him carefully, as though attempting to read him somehow, to figure out what was going through his head.

And when he turned back around, Dean found that he'd been right—Cas was indeed watching him from the bed, eyes sharp, gaze unwavering and intense, like he was trying to find the answers to all the questions currently floating around in his mind just by looking at Dean, just by  _staring_  at the human for as long as he possibly could—which, much to the hunter's dismay, was a really fucking long time for Cas.

Dean felt himself tense up as soon as he met the angel's gaze, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious. He hated how uncomfortable all that staring was making him feel, but he chose not to call Cas out on it. Instead, he simply shifted his weight on his feet, because that was all he found himself able to do in that moment. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth again, numb and useless and way too dry, though he didn't even know what he  _would_  have said if he were able to actually form words and speak right then.

"Dean, I think we need to talk."

Dean closed his eyes as soon as those words were out in the open, because they truly were the last thing he wanted to hear right now. He sighed again, feeling his entire body sag in defeat, though his muscles didn't relax even in the slightest. He leaned backwards, letting his butt press against the front of the desk right behind him for support, while his hands came to rest on its edge, each on either side of him, gripping the hard wooden top to keep himself steady. He bowed his head, then shook it, squeezing his eyes shut as he struggled to organize his rapidly racing thoughts. It was no easy task. "Cas, seriously, I... I'm exhausted. I just really want to rest, to lay down and try to get some sleep, because I really need it. Please, can you just... can we not do this? I really don't want to deal with this right now. I don't think I  _can,_ actually." He opened his eyes and glanced back up at Cas as he said the last part, hoping the pleading look he was certain had taken over his features would be enough to change the angel's mind about having this conversation, at least for now. Dean knew he would have to deal with this whole mess eventually, of course; that they'd need to  _talk_  about this at some point—and sooner rather than later, actually—but he would like postpone that train wreck of a conversation as much as he possibly could, thank you very much.

Cas' frown had deepened even more by then, and the seraph even tilted his head a bit to the side while he considered the human's request. Normally, Dean would find that sight adorable and ridiculously endearing, but in that moment, it did nothing to help soothe his frayed nerves. "What do you think 'dealing with this' actually entails?" the angel questioned, curiosity and confusion heavy in his voice, practically dripping from his words. The way the hunter could very clearly hear the air quotes attached to some of those words would have been amusing at any other time, because that was such a... a  _Cas_  thing, really, but in that moment, it was nothing of the sort.

What kind of question was that, anyway?

Dean let out a quick breath, which came out like a weird cross between a scoff and an exasperated sigh. He shook his head again, forcing his next words out of his mouth before they could die on his tongue, before his voice could fail, before he had a chance to really think about what he was about to say. "Cas, you... we both know what you saw. We both saw it, so there's no..." He stopped, feeling his throat far too tight all of a sudden, voice refusing to find its way out of his mouth. He swallowed drily, then forced himself to continue, as difficult as it was for him to form words in that moment. "I know I fucked up. I shouldn't have gone through with that stupid idea, not when I knew that you'd need to poke around in my memories. I lied. I wasn't okay with it, not really. And I just... I'm sorry, that you had to see that—all of it. I never meant for you to find out, especially not like this. But it's done, and I can't take it back. Honestly, I don't even know what the fuck I can even say to you right now, because I know nothing will actually fix this. I don't know how I can..." His voice finally died in his throat, and this time, he found that he had no more words left to say, so he just let the silence linger, swallowing back any other syllables that might have tried to find their way out of his mouth right then.

Cas didn't respond right away. He just considered Dean for a long, silent moment, head still slightly tilted to the right, brows furrowed in concentration, as though the hunter were a puzzle that the angel was trying very hard to figure out and piece together. It made Dean even more uncomfortable, of course, especially when the silence stretched on for way too long. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other several times, wishing that Cas would do something else other than just fucking  _stare_  at him like that; that he would say something,  _anything,_  even if Dean was convinced that whatever the angel might be about to say to him then would only cause him pain and hurt. Somehow, though, the hunter managed to hold the angel's gaze through the entirety of that awkward, seemingly endless moment, even if every single cell in his body was begging him to look away throughout the whole thing.

Nothing changed for a long time, but at some point, the angel finally moved, shifting his weight slightly on the mattress before he stood up from the bed and took a step forward.

Dean tensed up as soon as it happened, unsure of what to expect, head filled with fear and doubt as he wondered what was about to happen, what the angel was about to do, and he was certain that his emotions must have showed pretty clearly on his face, because Cas paused only a second later, as soon as he seemed to notice Dean's reaction. A hint of hurt flashed in those beautiful blue eyes, causing yet another stab of guilt and regret in Dean's chest, another painful tug at his heartstrings, but the hunter couldn't find it in himself to apologize. He couldn't find it in himself to say anything right now, honestly, so he just waited, watching the angel warily from his spot by the desk.

Cas didn't try to step forward again, didn't attempt to come any closer to Dean, instead allowing some distance to exist between them. He also didn't comment on the clear tension that still lingered in Dean's muscles, or on how very obviously uncomfortable the hunter still was. Instead, what came out of the angel's mouth when he finally spoke again was a calm, "I don't want you to say anything to me, Dean. I'm not here to hear an explanation from you, much less an apology. I just..." He shook his head lightly, gaze growing softer, voice lowering in volume, earning a small, subtle hint of plea when he finally added, "I want  _you_  to hear what _I_  have to say."

Dean was confused by those words, of course, as they were definitely not what he'd expected to hear right now. So all he managed to do during the seconds that followed was frown at Cas, tongue still lying numb and completely useless inside his mouth, mind struggling to make any sense out of what he'd just heard, to figure out what exactly Cas might wish to say to him then. He honestly had no idea, but that flame of dread still burned within him, just as strong and bright as it had been before, unrelenting as it filled his head with dark, painful thoughts, with the fears that had been haunting him since the moment he'd realized the angel had seen all those memories inside his head.

Cas apparently took the hunter's silence as a cue to continue.

"This isn't news to me, Dean. We..." The seraph paused, glancing down, apparently changing his mind about what he'd been about to say. He didn't seem uncomfortable, though, or even like he was struggling to speak. No, he merely seemed to be putting a lot of thought into his words, choosing them carefully, handpicking the ones he believed would best convey whatever was on his mind right then. "Angels don't need a formal prayer to know that someone needs us, that they desire our presence. We can pick up on longing, and... well, a rather big diversity of emotions that may be directed at us, as long as the emotion is strong enough. And that includes, amongst many others, lust and... love, no matter what kind."

Dean's entire brain halted at those words, and he practically heard the sound of a record scratch echoing loud and clear inside his head. His mind was suddenly filled with nothing more than useless static, unable to conjure up a reaction to the angel's words, or any coherent train of thought, for that matter. His mouth fell open, but no sound came out of it, and his eyes widened, eyebrows rising up to his forehead as he stared at Cas, struggling to wrap his mind around what he'd just heard, to fucking  _process_  it. He couldn't... He just couldn't...

"Are you...?" Dean tried to ask, but his voice failed, breaking before he could let out another syllable. He cleared his throat and shook his head, then tried again, "Are you saying that you... that you _knew?"_

Cas' answering nod was slow, careful, but it still made Dean feel like the floor had just vanished right beneath his feet. "For years now, actually. And I felt your feelings change, too, with time. I could tell they were more... physical, at first, but they shifted as the years passed, changing into something... deeper, more profound."

Dean wanted to die. He wanted a hole to open up in the floor right under his feet and swallow him whole, take him to the deepest depths of the Earth so that he never, ever had to finish this conversation.

Cas had known all along. For years, Cas had... he'd  _known._  He'd  _fucking felt it_ , actually. How could he...? Why hadn't he...?

Fuck. Fuck.  _Fuck._

Dean didn't realize that he'd stumbled, that his balance had wavered so dangerously and his body had tipped a bit too much to one side until he felt a hand gripping his arm, trying to keep him steady, to hold him upright. The hunter jumped at the contact without a thought, startled, staring up at Cas with wide, shocked eyes, because he'd once again failed to notice the angel moving across the room, but at least he didn't yank his arm back this time. Small miracles and all.

Cas looked worried, brows furrowed in concentration as he stared at the human, as though trying to decide whether or not it was safe to let go of Dean's arm, as if trying to figure out if there was still any risk of the hunter simply losing his balance again and collapsing to the floor. He seemed to decide there was, because he didn't remove his hand.

For an embarrassingly long time, all Dean could do was stare dumbly at the angel, blinking confusedly at the seraph as his mind failed to conjure up any words to say right then. And to make it even worse, the fact that Cas was standing right there, right in front of him, hand firmly wrapped around the hunter's arm and blue eyes focused on his face with such unwavering attention was doing the very opposite of helping Dean get his mind to freaking cooperate. He didn't even know what he could... How could he even...

How could Cas even  _touch_  him right now, knowing what he knew? After everything he'd seen?

Maybe he was just trying to be a good friend, Dean reasoned. That definitely sounded like Cas, anyway. Yeah, that had to be it. Nothing else made sense.

That thought felt like a knife cutting right into his heart, and Dean flinched before he could stop it. He shook his head quickly, though, pushing that train of thought away. He had a much more important matter to address in that moment.

But to do that, he had to  _fucking speak._

It took a while, but eventually, he finally found his voice again.

"Cas, I'm sorry," the hunter whispered, voice nothing more than a weak, pitiful, broken thing. It trembled with his shame, with his guilt, but he didn't even bother trying to disguise it. The angel deserved to hear it, deserved a truthful apology from him. Dean let his gaze fall, finding that he could no longer look at Cas, but he still managed to force a few more words out of his mouth, "I'm so,  _so_  sorry. I never meant for it to happen. I never wanted to... I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to apologize, Dean. I understand."

Dean made himself look back up at the angel, unsure of what to understand from those words, of what exactly the seraph was referring to, and he was both surprised and confused by the warm look he found in those beautiful azure eyes. He blinked at the angel again, as though doing so enough times might somehow clear up the image right before his eyes, as if it might reveal some sort of hidden meaning behind the seraph's words that Dean was currently missing entirely. None of it made any sense to him, honestly, and the hunter's thoughts were racing again, head spinning as it tried to process everything.

Needless to say, that wasn't going too well.

"I understand why you never told me," Cas continued, before Dean could even  _think_  about trying to come up with something to say, "Why you'd feel the need to hide it. I understand, but I do wish that you did not feel that way. I wish... I wish things were different." The hand on Dean's arm started to move, traveling higher, dragging against skin and fabric alike until it finally reached the human's cheek. Careful fingers cradled the side of the hunter's face, rubbing tenderly against his stubble-covered cheek.

Dean had no idea what to say, what to do— _fuck_ , he didn't even know how the fuck he was supposed to  _react_  to this, probably because he still had no idea what was even  _happening_  here in the first place. So all he found himself able to do was continue to stare at Cas, letting out a shaky breath at the feeling of those fingertips gently brushing against his skin in a light, almost intimate caress, like Dean was a some fragile, delicate thing that needed to be handled with the utmost care.

What the hell was happening here? What the hell was Cas saying? Why was he doing this? Why...?

"I never meant to tell you, either, even if I knew all along, even if I've been aware of how you feel for years now. I know you're hesitant about this for several reasons other than my own reaction, Dean, be it the acceptance of others, as well as your own; be it the fear of getting too close or attached to anyone, only to lose them afterwards, which I know you've carried with you for most of your life; or be it because you believe you don't deserve anything good. I never wished to make you uncomfortable, Dean. I didn't want to push you, to make you do something you didn't feel ready for, so I never said anything. I thought it would be better that way. But I can't just stand here now and watch you suffer, watch you struggle with fear and shame and  _guilt_ , when there's no reason for any of it. I would never forgive myself if I made you go through that."

That gentle hand delivered yet another soft caress to the hunter's skin, and Dean shivered before he could stop it. Shame and guilt poured into him when it happened, heavy and sour, because there was just no way Cas hadn't noticed that involuntary reaction, but at least the angel had no obvious reaction to it. Instead, that warm, careful hand simply cupped Dean's face properly, palm pressing a bit more insistently against the human's cheek.

Dean let out another small, trembling breath, and then cursed himself for it. He knew that he should lean away from that touch before he did something really stupid and embarrassing, that he should be disgusted with himself for leaning into that hand, for making it so damn obvious that he was enjoying its caresses, for wanting  _more_ , but he couldn't bring himself to pull away. Call him selfish; he didn't care. His brain wasn't even functioning properly in that moment, so what the hell was he supposed to do, really?

"I know you, Dean. I've learned how to read you pretty well over the years, or at least I like to believe so, anyway. So it isn't difficult for me to guess what's going through your head right now." Cas tilted his head to the side again, though this time there was no confusion in his eyes, no curiosity. His gaze was steady, determined, unnervingly intense in that way only the angel seemed able to manage as it danced over the hunter's features, taking in every detail, examining every reaction. Dean found he couldn't look away from him even if he wanted to. "I know you probably wish to pretend that this never happened, and as much as it pains me, I will do that for you, if that's what you truly want. But first, I do need to tell you something else, something... something I probably should have told you a long time ago."

Cas' eyes had grown considerably softer by then, suddenly warm and inviting, and Dean had no idea what to make of that look. It made something good and pleasant uncurl in his gut, and even if Dean didn't exactly feel calm or soothed by it, it did cause some of the tension to melt right out of his muscles.

Not all of it, though.

"Naomi once told me that I had fallen in every way imaginable, and she wasn't wrong. But from the moment I laid a hand on you in Hell, from the moment I found your tortured soul in the middle of all the horrors housed in that awful place, of all that fire and brimstone, I wasn't lost. I like to think I was finally saved." The tiniest of smiles tugged the corner of Cas' mouth upward, and a spark of something... different came to life in his eyes, something bright and new that Dean couldn't quite identify. The angel almost looked... proud, in a way, happy about something the hunter couldn't yet understand. "Granted, I wasn't sure what to make of it at first. I didn't realize it for a long time, really. I was confused and scared for years, struggling with feelings I couldn't quite comprehend, but now I could not be happier about it—about all of it."

The hand currently cupping the human's cheek delivered one more caress to Dean's skin, causing yet another shiver to run up and down the hunter's spine, punching another shaky breath right out of his mouth, and this time, Dean couldn't help but let his eyes slip closed at the feeling. His head was spinning again, thoughts nothing more than a confused, jumbled mess of words and images that didn't entirely connect. Cas' words might as well be falling onto deaf ears, with how much Dean was struggling to understand them, with how little of them his brain was actually registering.

What the hell was Cas  _saying?_ What did all of this  _mean?_

"You saved me, Dean Winchester, in more ways than you can possibly imagine. You  _changed_  me, in ways I never thought I  _could_  be changed. You've taught me more in the decade I've known you than I'd learned in all of my several millennia in this Universe. With you, I learned the true meaning of family, of  _love._  You taught me how  _to_  love." There was a small pause, but as much as Dean wanted to, he just couldn't bring himself to open his eyes and look at the angel. He  _couldn't..._

When Cas spoke again, his voice was even lower, just a small, careful whisper, as though the seraph feared to speak any louder, as if the angel believed he was telling the hunter the most precious of secrets and he feared his words may be overheard. In a way, that wasn't exactly far from the truth. "I fell for you, Dean, in every sense of the word. And that is truly the best thing that's ever happened to me.  _You_  are the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Dean's eyes shot open at those words, growing as wide as they possibly could as the human finally raised his head to look at the angel again, the movement turning out quick and jerky with his shock. However, during the moment that followed, the hunter found himself simply watching as another small smile tugged at the corner of Cas' lips, too stunned to do anything else.

What...? Cas couldn't possibly be saying that he...? He  _couldn't..._

This didn't make any  _sense._

"Cas..." That was it. That was all his brain gave him to work with; the only word his lips managed to form in that moment. It came out barely even audible, too, weak and practically breathed out, slipping out of his mouth as nothing more than a feeble, trembling whisper.

He didn't get a chance to try again, though; to try to find any more words to say, to construct an actually eloquent sentence—or even just a coherent one, really.

No, because suddenly Cas was leaning in, his face growing closer and closer, and Dean couldn't move, couldn't yet process what was happening. Another hand moved up to cup Dean's other cheek so that the hunter's face was properly cradled in both of Cas' palms, and the next thing the human knew was that a pair of chapped lips was being pressed against his own. He let out a startled breath at the feeling of it, gasping against that warm mouth, and despite his shock, Dean's eyes slipped closed immediately, lips going completely slack and pliant at the contact, even if Cas didn't actually move his own lips against the hunter's, even if the kiss turned out to be nothing more than a brief, gentle press of mouths. But even if that hadn't been the case here, Dean would've been way too surprised to respond to it, anyway, since he found himself unable to do anything more than just stand there during the few seconds the kiss lasted, body completely frozen, motionless, hands hanging limply at his sides.

And far too soon, Cas was pulling away, leaving Dean to simply stare at him in shock, wide-eyed, lips tingling with the fading echo of a touch that was no longer there. The hunter's mind was racing even more by then, thoughts quickly becoming even messier, a true whirlwind of emotions that he couldn't quite grasp or decipher, that he couldn't process, that he didn't  _understand_.

Cas had just kissed him.  _Cas_  had just  _kissed_  him. He'd just...

"I don't expect this to change anything, Dean," Cas whispered, voice barely even audible, and he was still  _so fucking close,_  enough so that Dean could feel the angel's warm breath washing over his mouth when he spoke. The human's lips tingled even more because of it, and he shivered again, breath shaking audibly.

That happy spark from earlier was long gone from Cas' eyes by then, and it had been replaced by something heavier, something... darker, somehow. The look the angel was giving him seemed almost sad, and Dean had no idea what could have possibly caused that obvious shift, but his brain was pretty much short-circuiting at that point, and he didn't exactly have enough working neurons at the moment to try and figure out what that change meant.

"Like I said before, if you want to forget about this, to... pretend it never happened; if you don't want things to change, then I can... I can do that for you, Dean. If that's what you want, then I will do it, as much as it pains me."

And during the moment that followed, Cas just... watched him. The angel's blue eyes danced over the human's features, as though looking for something, as though trying to read the hunter's reaction to his words, to figure out what Dean wanted, what he was  _thinking_. There was hope in his eyes as the seraph waited for a response—Dean could see it clearly, painfully so, but he couldn't do anything about it.

His mind was numb. He wasn't even thinking anymore, really; he wasn't even trying to figure out what he should do or say right then, because he just _couldn't_  do it. It was like his mind had just quit on him, like it had simply decided to stop working and leave Dean to fend for himself, to let him deal with this on his own. So of course the hunter ended up just  _staring_  at Cas, unable to get his lips to shape themselves around even a single word and instead letting his mouth hang open, doing what Dean guessed was a damn good impression of a fucking  _fish._

And eventually, Cas seemed to take that prolonged silence as his answer. The shift was minute, barely even there at all, but Dean still saw it—the way Cas' shoulders fell just an inch, the way the look in the angel's eyes grew just a bit darker, sadder,  _resigned_ , that hopeful spark fading from them quickly, easily blown out like the small, trembling light of a dying flame. The weak smile the seraph gave Dean then seemed forced and not sincere at all, the tiny nod of acknowledgement that followed obviously strained, like the angel's muscles were far too tense for the movement to turn out easy and smooth. Cas actually looked  _tired_  all of a sudden, even if that didn't make any sense. Angels didn't get tired, so Dean really had no idea what to make of that sight.

"You should rest, Dean," Cas whispered, and his voice sounded empty, even lower than normal, hoarser, like a weird, faded echo of what he should sound like, words coming out hollow and sounding far too wrong when they reached Dean's ears. "You do look exhausted."  

The angel delivered one last small caress to the hunter's cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, before letting his hands fall to his sides. And then he was pulling away from Dean completely, turning on his heels and stepping away from the human without another word, clearly heading for the door, making his intention to leave the room painfully obvious.

And it was in that moment, as he stood frozen by the desk, staring at the back of Cas' trench coat, at the angel's quickly retreating form, that Dean finally snapped out of his trance.

It hit him like a tidal wave—the  _meaning_  of Cas' words, the enormity of this moment—powerful and fast, overwhelming even, and Dean felt all the air leave his lungs in a second. That didn't mean that he'd suddenly managed to wrap his mind around this, of course; that suddenly he could fully process what had just happened, or what it meant exactly. No, it was like his mind had simply decided to go back to working properly after being completely numb and useless for several minutes, like it had finally decided to freaking cooperate, and suddenly he could  _think_  again.

Cas' words—his  _confession_ , actually—echoed loudly inside Dean's head, replaying over and over again, making the hunter's head spin in the best way possible. That dread, that  _panic_  from earlier was long gone by then, squashed like a bug, stomped down and ground up into nothing, only to be replaced by relief, warm and powerful and honestly fucking  _freeing_. Dean felt like a weight he'd been carrying around inside of him for years, constantly weighing him down and bringing him nothing but guilt, pain and self-loathing for as long as he could remember was suddenly gone, like it had simply melted away, or crumbled to dust. Suddenly, Dean felt lighter than he had in a long time.

He still didn't know what this meant, what would happen next, where they  _stood_  now, but he did know one thing for certain. There were still countless thoughts running through his head, far too many for him to register, all of them fighting for his attention, piling up on top of each other, but there was one particular thought that stood out to him, that echoed loudly over all the others inside his skull.

He  _did not_  want Cas to walk out that door.

“Cas, wait.”

Those two words came out lower than Dean had meant them to, weaker, his voice merely a hoarse, tentative whisper, but it worked, and that's what mattered. 

Cas paused immediately, as soon as the words filled the air of the room, breaking the heavy silence that had draped over them as soon as the angel had pulled away from Dean. The seraph just stood there for a few seconds, about a foot away from the door, as though feeling the need to take a moment to steady himself, to prepare himself for whatever was about to happen, his entire body visibly tense and stiff.

And when he finally turned around, the look in the angel's eyes was curious, albeit obviously hesitant, which made it clear that Cas really had no idea what to expect here, that he wasn't sure why Dean had just asked him to wait. There was something else in his gaze, though—something close to hope, something so raw and vulnerable that Dean felt his heart break a little at the sight of it. In that moment, the hunter wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around the angel, to cradle him in his embrace and not let go until that look was finally gone from Cas' eyes.

Too bad Dean couldn't move, or even get his mouth to fucking work again.

Now that Cas had stopped walking and they were both just standing there, staring at each other in complete silence, Dean wasn't sure what the hell he should say. There was just so much he  _wanted_  to say right then, so much that had been going unsaid between them for a whole freaking decade, so much Dean had tried to hide from Cas—emphasis on  _tried_ —for so many years. But in that moment, he couldn't come up with a single word.

The thing was—Cas had been right earlier, when he'd listed off the reasons why Dean had always been so hesitant about this, why he'd never actually considered doing anything about his feelings for the angel, why the hunter had done everything he could to keep them a secret for so long. Sure, the seraph's reaction to that particular revelation, the very real possibility of scaring the angel away because Dean hadn't managed to keep his feelings under control, because he'd  _fallen_  for Cas was probably the biggest factor, the main reason why Dean had always been so adamant about never, ever allowing the seraph to find out about his dirty little secret.

But there were other factors, and Cas had nailed every single one of them. He really could read Dean like a freaking open book, it seemed.

It was true—Dean was scared of getting too close to people because he was afraid of losing them—or more specifically, of what losing them would to do him. That unconscious fear had always been there, for as long as he could remember—probably since his Mom died, he figured—haunting the hunter's thoughts, constantly hovering over his head like a dark cloud. It was almost like a defense mechanism, really, an involuntary reaction from his mind, an attempt to keep him from getting hurt, from suffering with the pain and grief of losing someone he cared about, someone he  _loved_. That truly was the most probable reason why it had always been so hard for Dean to let people in; why he'd always been so hesitant about getting too close to anyone.

And that  _had_  played a part in Dean's hesitance at some point, it truly had, but honestly, with Cas... it was a little too late for that now. The angel was family, and that single fact on its own already meant that losing Cas would hurt something awful, that it would rattle Dean down to his very core, but that wasn't all.

Cas was... fuck, he was  _Cas_. Losing the angel wouldn't just hurt; it would fucking  _break_  Dean. He knew that for a fact, knew from  _experience,_ because he'd fucking  _lived_  through it, more than once, though the last time he'd lost Cas had definitely been the worst one. Watching Cas die last year, kneeling beside the angel's unmoving corpse,  _burning_  the seraph's body—that whole situation had fucking  _crippled_  Dean in such a way that he hadn't been able to function properly for fucking  _weeks,_ and he was certain that would have continued on for a lot longer if Cas hadn't come back. The hunter's mind had been plagued with nightmares every single night throughout those weeks, the memory of that damn blade emerging from the seraph's chest, of that bright, angelic light washing over everything around them as Cas' Grace burned away replaying behind his eyelids as soon as unconsciousness claimed him, making him relive that horrible scene over and over again in his sleep. Dean had felt so fucking  _empty_  during the time Cas had been gone, like something inside of him had shattered, like Cas had taken a part of the hunter with him when he'd died, leaving the human hollow and dented, broken, damaged beyond repair. It truly was a wonder that Dean hadn't done something incredibly stupid back then—actually, no, he  _had_  done something stupid, but Billie had sent him right back to the land of the living right after and he just didn't get a say in it.

And Dean had to admit—he was really fucking glad for that now.

So maybe that wasn't that big of a reason for Dean to be so hesitant about this, for him to be so scared. The fear of losing Cas would always be there, like a constant presence in the back of his mind, right alongside the fear of losing Sam, or his Mom, or Jack, and that certainly wouldn't be going away, no matter what changed between them, no matter what happened here tonight. This—whatever was happening here right now—wouldn't exactly change anything in that department.

But that unconscious fear wasn't the only reason why Dean was so lost on what to say or do in that moment, and the others weren't quite as easy to dismiss.

It had taken Dean quite a while to truly accept this side of himself—the, well,  _not-exactly-straight_  side. If he was honest, he'd spent several years pretty much hating himself for it, loathing that he couldn't control it, that his mind would wander far too often into places where he didn't want it to go, that he would find himself feeling  _curious, wondering_ about things that he definitely shouldn't be thinking about. He believed he could blame a lot of those negative thoughts and feelings on the way John had raised both him and Sam, on their rather strict and narrow-minded upbringing, on how their father had always made it pretty damn clear that anything that strayed from what the man had believed to be normal was just completely  _wrong_ and absurd— _disgusting_ , even, as he'd called it on a couple of occasions. And Dean had carried an echo of those words with him for a long time, always secretly wishing that he could just be...  _normal_ , that he could be the man his father had raised him to be, that John had  _wanted_  him to be—the straight alpha-male, the type of guy who flirted with any attractive woman he saw, who'd jump from bed to bed without caring about anything as long as there was a warm feminine body by his side, and who would definitely not glance at another guy twice.

But Dean just wasn't that person. He'd never been, really. Sure, flirting was pretty much ingrained in his nature, and since in his line of work having an actual relationship with pretty much  _anyone_  who wasn't in the life was way too fucking complicated, Dean, just like most hunters, ended up resorting to one night stands instead, and that had made it easier to play by the rules and keep up the facade of the son his father could someday be proud of. However, there had been a time when Dean had worked a bit too hard to maintain that image, to both to himself and his Dad; a time when he'd gone through far too many lengths to prove himself, to make sure that he fit the mold John had so carefully crafted for him, and Dean realized now that he'd simply been trying to disguise that other part of himself, to hide it from the world, to bury it so deep that he couldn't see it, that he could just forget about it, that he could pretend it didn't exist.

And of course that hadn't worked forever. Eventually, it all caught up to him.

He'd always been attracted to men, for as long as he could remember. He'd always been curious, ever since he'd been a teenager, but it had taken Dean a really long time to even  _consider_ exploring that part of himself, to try and get over all the hate and guilt he'd felt inside of him because of it. But at some point, he'd finally given in to that curiosity. He'd allowed himself to indulge, to figure things out, figure  _himself_  out—John had been long dead when that happened, of course. Dean doubted he would have been able to get through it otherwise—and eventually, after several one night stands spent in bed with a partner who, instead of soft curves and gentle features, had sharp angles and hard, firm muscles, Dean had finally come to accept himself as bisexual. Today, he could think about it, could let his mind wander without shame and guilt. He could be himself, could do what he wanted, without all the internal struggles that had plagued him in the past. Being bi wasn't something he should be ashamed of, and it didn't make him any less of a man; he got that now. He was  _okay_  with it now. 

So his problem wasn't self-acceptance. No, it was the acceptance of  _others_ , of everyone around him, that truly troubled him, that had him pausing now, that filled him with actual fucking  _dread_.

Dean had never told anyone about this, ever, not even Sam. He'd never even considered doing it, really, because he'd never had a reason to do it, so why go through all that stress? He'd never felt the need to... to  _come out_. He'd been more than happy to not ever have to deal with that whole situation, honestly. He just wasn't sure how people would take it if he were to ever come clean about this, how they would react, and it kinda terrified him, in a way very little things in this world could. He didn't want people to look at him differently. He didn't want anyone to change with him, in any way; to change the way they saw him, or what they thought of him. That really was his biggest fear, the main reason why he'd never opened up to anyone before. Sam, his Mom, Jack—fuck, even Jody and Bobby and freaking  _Claire_ —Dean just... he had no idea what to expect from any of them, and it truly fucking terrified him to just think about it.

But, well, maybe... maybe Dean shouldn't be so afraid. This  _was_  the twenty-first century, after all, and Dean knew that Sam was pretty open-minded when it came to this sort of thing, so his brother probably wouldn't care all that much—well, once he finally got over his shock at the news, that was. His Mom had been raised in a completely different time, though, but she really seemed to have grown accustomed to this time by now, to all the differences and changes that had happened to the world since the last time she'd been here, so maybe she'd... well, had her mind broadened, in a way? Mary didn't seem like the bigoted, hateful kind of person, at least. And she was his  _mother_ , anyway, not to mention that she loved Cas. Certainly her reaction couldn't be too bad?

And if he really thought about it, Dean had a feeling that Jack wouldn't really care, that he most likely wouldn't even bat an eye at the news. Maybe he'd ask a few inappropriate questions because the kid was awkward and just didn't know any better—he really did take after Cas on that one—but he would definitely not do it with any kind of ill-intent, just plain, innocent curiosity. Bobby probably wouldn't care either, and this wasn't even  _their_  Bobby, anyway, so Dean found that he didn't really care all that much about what the man had to say about this. Jody would probably be surprised, but she, too, didn't seem like the prejudiced type at all, and once her shock finally faded, she would probably just shrug it off and move on, just take it all in stride.

Claire might be a bit of a problem, though, for entirely different reasons, considering Cas was still wearing her dead father's body and all, but Dean chose not to think about that right now.

And, well, if something were to happen here, between him and Cas, they wouldn't necessarily need to tell everyone right away. Dean could try to work up to it, to prepare himself somehow, until he finally felt ready to do it, until he finally found the  _courage_  to open up about it. He was sure that Cas would be okay with waiting a bit to tell everyone, that the angel would understand. Hell, Cas might even suggest it before Dean could bring it up himself, because the angel was just that good at reading him, at guessing exactly what the hunter was thinking.

But maybe none of that actually mattered in the end, because there was one more factor, one last item in Cas' list, and in that moment, that particular item just happened to be exactly the reason why Dean was currently frozen and speechless, simply staring at Cas, struggling to find any words to say, struggling to process this, to accept it, to freaking  _react_  to it.

This just didn't make sense.

Sure, Dean had wished for this, had dreamed with this very moment, had allowed himself to imagine it more times than he could actually remember. He'd fantasized about it for  _years_ , but he'd never allowed himself to believe that this could actually happen someday, mostly because it had always seemed completely impossible to him that his feelings might not be entirely one-sided, that Cas could ever feel anything for him that went beyond friendship, or, well, brotherly love—and Dean couldn't help but wince at that thought, holding back a shudder as he remembered the time he'd actually told Cas that the angel was like a brother to him. Those words had felt so  _fucking wrong_  coming out of his mouth, but the human had forced himself to say them anyway, since he'd still been trying to keep up his carefully crafted facade back then.

Dean didn't deserve Cas—that was a fact. Those words were set in stone in the hunter's mind, and that would never, ever change. So even if Cas' confession had sent an excited thrill running through Dean's entire body, even if part of him wanted to fucking shout out in joy, to pull Cas to him and never let go, to kiss the seraph again and not stop until both of them ran out of freaking  _air_ , Dean didn't do any of that, because he just couldn't understand how this could be true, how it could even be  _happening_. This was  _Cas,_ for fuck's sake. Castiel, freaking  _Angel of the Lord_ , and Dean was just... well,  _Dean_. He was broken, cursed, tainted—he was fucking  _poison_ , really, and the angel knew that, so how the hell could have  _Cas_  fallen for  _him?_  It just didn't make sense _,_ so of course Dean couldn't exactly bring himself to believe it so easily.

But he wished it could be true. Fuck, he wished for it so fucking badly that it  _hurt_. He'd wanted this for so long, had dreamed about it for so many years, but he just couldn't accept it now, couldn't understand how this could be  _real_. Those two sides were battling inside his head, making it spin again, turning his thoughts into a chaotic mess that he had no hope of sorting through. He couldn't...

Fuck, he didn't know what to  _do_.

Nothing happened for a long time. They were silent for what must have minutes, really, until Cas finally seemed to take pity on him. 

"We don't need to talk about this right now, Dean," Cas whispered, and there was something soft and gentle in his eyes, something so warm and fuzzy that the angel might as well be trying to wrap Dean up in a fluffy blanket with that look alone. The hunter felt his body relax considerably at the sight, felt some of the tension bleed right out of his muscles. "You don't need to decide anything now. You do look very tired. Perhaps you should try to get some sleep. We can continue this in the morning, or, well, whenever you'd like."

For a second, Dean was tempted to take Cas' offer, to just let the angel walk out of that room so that he could be alone with his own thoughts and maybe, just maybe, calm down enough to work through his issues and come to a decision.

But he didn't want to do that. He didn't want Cas to  _leave_.

Dean let out a heavy breath, shoulders sagging under the weight of his exhaustion. It was easier for him to focus on the new topic, and he truly welcomed the change in subject, even if it really wasn't a big one. It helped clear his mind somewhat, and because of it, the human finally managed to find his voice to speak again. "Honestly, I... I don't think I can sleep," he admitted, shaking his head weakly. "I mean, I can... I can try, but I'm pretty sure the moment I close my eyes, I'll... I'll just relive those memories, over and over again. I know I'll just... I'll see it all again, all those... everything that I—that we—" He paused, swallowing drily, then shook his head minutely in an attempt to try and clear it a bit more. "That  _he_  did. There's just no way I'll get any rest like that."

Cas tilted his head to the side again, considering Dean, weighing the hunter's words in his mind. The angel's expression shifted, eyes narrowing, a small pinch forming between his brows, like he'd just realized something but couldn't quite understand it. Dean wasn't sure what the seraph was looking for in his face, but he did his best not to shift under that gaze again, as uncomfortable as it made him. 

"Nothing Michael did while using you as a vessel was your fault, Dean."

Dean swallowed again, tearing his eyes away from Cas as soon as he heard those words. Honestly, the hunter wasn't surprised that the angel had so easily figured out exactly what kind of thoughts were currently plaguing his mind. The seraph had been inside his head just an hour ago, after all; he'd seen exactly what kind of damage Michael had done while wearing Dean, so  _of course_  Cas had been able to so effortlessly deduce that the human would blame himself for all of it.

Or maybe Cas just knew him way too well.

When Dean didn't respond, Cas seemed to take the hunter's silence as his cue to continue, "You didn't do anything wrong, Dean. I don't blame you for anything Michael did, and I know for a fact that no one else does. Michael is a heartless monster, and he  _used_  you. You were merely a tool to him, and nothing more. All those people he killed, all the things he did—none of it was your fault. You should not try to take blame for any of it."

Dean shook his head, bowing his head and squeezing his eyes shut. He wasn't surprised to hear those words from Cas either, and they did absolutely nothing to change his mind about this. His guilt still burned strong inside his chest, and he knew that wouldn't change anytime soon. It probably never would, honestly. "Well, that's... that's way easier said than done, Cas."

The room was completely silent for a moment, until Dean suddenly heard movement. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, only to find himself watching as Cas calmly stepped forward, moving closer to Dean, only pausing when he was standing just a couple of steps away from the hunter. Dean felt a little disappointed when the angel stopped moving, because he kinda wished that Cas would come even closer, that he'd close the distance between them completely.

Dean cursed himself inside his head as soon as that thought registered in his mind.

"Dean, when I said yes to Lucifer, I thought... I thought I would be helping in the fight against Amara. I truly did. But I was wrong, and everything Lucifer did after he was let out of the Cage was my fault— _everything_. However, no matter what happened, no matter the damage Lucifer caused both while he was using me as a vessel and after Amara ripped him from my body, I still... it wasn't all in vain. All those deaths, all the awful things he did—I can't erase any of it, and I, too, will forever carry that weight on my shoulders. I know what that feels like—trust me, I do—so I know that I cannot possibly convince you to forget about all the terrible things Michael did, to not feel guilty, to not blame yourself for it. But still, if I hadn't let Lucifer in, we never... Jack would have never been born."

Cas did have a point, Dean had to admit that, but that wasn't the same thing. The hunter wasn't sure where the angel wanted to get with that, though, so he chose not to comment on it just yet. Instead, he simply frowned at Cas, waiting in silence for the seraph to continue, a wordless question clear in his eyes.

"You let Michael in to save Sam and Jack. You did it to save their lives, and you succeeded. They would most likely be dead now, both of them, if you hadn't done it. You were right, back then—you didn't have a choice, even if I refused to see it. And regardless of what happened afterwards, of what Michael did during the past few weeks, if you hadn't said yes to him, then Lucifer would still be alive, and who knows what kind of damage  _he_  would have done with Jack's Grace. And also... Perhaps..." 

Cas paused again, apparently changing his mind about what he'd been about to say. He simply stared at the hunter for a moment, gaze growing soft once more for some reason Dean didn't understand, before the angel moved, stepping forward again and finally closing the distance between them. Without a word, Cas lifted his right hand slowly, placing it on Dean's arm, and the human sucked in a sharp breath at the contact. As light and innocent as the touch was, even if it truly wasn't anything they hadn't done before, after everything that had happened here tonight, it somehow felt like... like  _more_.

Cas' voice was a gentle whisper when he spoke again, fingers delivering a light caress to the hunter's arm. "Sometimes good things can come from bad decisions."

Dean's breath got caught in his throat as he stared at Cas, mind trying and failing to process the meaning hidden behind those words. His mouth opened, but no sound came out, so the hunter hurried to close it again. All thoughts of Michael were suddenly erased from his mind, tossed aside for the time being as his head was once again filled with doubts, all the confused, panicked thoughts from earlier coming back to haunt him once more.

Only this time, Dean finally managed to voice them.

"I just don't get it, Cas."

Cas frowned at him, confused, but he did not move his hand. "Don't get what?"

"How you can..." Dean paused, swallowing drily, trying to organize his thoughts. He licked his lips, then forced them to form the words he wished to say, as difficult as that turned out to be in that moment. "You said you fell for me—not just the... the 'angel Falling from Heaven' way, but the... the  _other_  way. And I just... Cas, I don't fucking deserve you. I'm... I'm tainted. I'm fucking poison, really, and you know that, but you're still... you're still here. I just don't get why."

Cas' eyes grew heavier again, darker, and what looked like a sad smile formed on his lips. The angel lifted his hands, cupping the hunter's face just as he'd done earlier, and this time, Dean allowed himself to fully lean into the angel's touch, closing his eyes again so he could enjoy it, so he could savor every second of it, relishing in the warmth seeping into his skin, in the feeling of those fingers so tenderly brushing against his cheeks. "You are far from poison, Dean, from tainted. You do realize that you were chosen as The Righteous Man for a reason, don't you?"

Dean shook his head, letting out a scoff, before he forced himself to open his eyes again, though he didn't quite manage to lean away from those hands. "That hardly makes me a saint, Cas."

"It doesn't have to," Cas whispered easily, without a beat of hesitation. "Dean, I don't think you understand the sacrifices you make every day. You've devoted pretty much your entire life to saving people, to making this world a better place. You've  _saved_  this world, more than once. How can you possibly believe yourself to be anything other than a hero?"

Dean scoffed again, louder this time, and he actually had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes at Cas' truly ridiculous comment. "Yeah, well, lately it just seems like I've done a whole lot more bad than good."

Cas' eyes seemed to grow even sadder when he heard those words, and the angel shook his head weakly. There was a small, subtle hint of plea in the seraph's voice when he said, "Dean, I also have blood on my hands. I killed  _thousands_  of angels in Heaven. I released the Leviathan into this world. I caused all angels to Fall to Earth. I freed Lucifer from the Cage. All the deaths caused by my mistakes, human and angel alike—they're on me, every single one of them. So if you're tainted, if you're poison, as you said, then so am I."

It was Dean's turn to shake his head. He wanted to argue that Cas was wrong, that it wasn't the same thing. He wanted to tell Cas that he definitely wasn't tainted, that he was the only (living) angel that was actually worth something, the only angel that actually deserved to be called holy and good. But he didn't, because he knew Cas wouldn't believe him, just like Dean couldn't get himself to believe what the angel had said about  _him_ —that _he_ wasn't tainted, that he was a freaking  _hero_ , of all things. Cas could be just as stubborn as Dean when he wanted to, and the hunter was certain that the seraph would not react any differently to this.

When Cas seemed to realize that Dean was struggling to find the right words to say, the angel's eyes softened. "Perhaps we're both broken, Dean," he whispered, "But maybe that's not such a bad thing."

Dean let out a small, shaky breath at those words. He still wasn't happy with what Cas was saying, still wanted to argue that the angel wasn't broken, that he was far from tainted. But in the end, he didn't, because as he stared at Cas, as he took in the gentle look in those hypnotizing blue eyes, as he finally registered just how close they were standing to each other, or how Cas' hands were still cupping his face, Dean's mind decided to stop working properly again. His eyes fell to Cas' mouth, to those chapped lips, and suddenly the hunter was filled with an urge so powerful that he found himself unable to control it, to hold himself back from acting on it. And before he could actually think it through, before he could  _stop_  it, a question jumped from his lips without his permission.

"Cas, can I... can I kiss you?"

Cas seemed a bit surprised by the question, which made it clear that he definitely hadn't been expecting to hear it. But soon enough, the corner of his mouth went up in a small smile, and that happy spark was suddenly back in the angel's eyes, even stronger than it had been before, more obvious. That look alone seemed to light up the seraph's entire face in a way Dean had never seen before. "You don't need to ask, Dean."

Even with the angel's permission, Dean still hesitated, not entirely convinced that he was truly allowed. The realization of what he'd just done finally seemed to hit him then, and he froze again as all the thoughts, all the doubts and fears that had filled his head earlier suddenly flooded his mind once more.

So Cas ended up making the decision for him. That tiny smile was still playing on his lips when the angel leaned in to capture the hunter's mouth in a slow, careful kiss, just as light and gentle as the last one. And it turned out just as short, too, because only a couple of seconds later, Cas pulled away, pausing to linger just a few inches away from the hunter, even closer than he had last time, warm puffs of air from the angel's breath washing over the hunter's mouth even more insistently than before, making the human wish for more,  _tempting_  him.

And that was enough to make Dean lose it, apparently.

Why the hell was he holding back? Why couldn't he have this? He wanted this, wanted  _Cas_  so fucking badly that he couldn't even think straight, so what was stopping him, really? For some reason that he could not possibly fathom, that he didn't  _understand_ , Cas wanted this too, wanted  _him_. Dean could see it in Cas' eyes, in the hopeful look the angel was giving him, in the clear expectation practically dripping from the seraph's gaze. Fuck, Cas had said it, too—he'd literally  _told_  Dean that he'd fallen for him, and he'd used those exact words. And as hard as it was to believe it, the hunter knew for a fact that Cas had meant it. Dean didn't need to understand why. He didn't need to  _question_  it. He should just let himself be happy, for once in his life.

So without another thought, before he could really consider what he was doing, Dean lunged forward, closing the small gap that separated them and claiming Cas' mouth with his own.

And  _fuck_ , it felt fucking  _amazing_.

Their two previous kisses had been tame, almost innocent, nothing more than a careful brush of lips. But this one? If Dean had to choose one word to describe it, it would be  _hungry._  Dean had really gone for it, moving his lips avidly as soon as his mouth met Cas', not quite finding it in himself to go slow at first. The angel wasted no time to respond with just as much enthusiasm, which was a very welcome surprise, and the next thing Dean knew was that their mouths were sliding together, movements rushed, impatient as they learned each other's rhythm, as they explored new, completely uncharted territory, their stubble brushing roughly against each other's, providing a delicious burn that Dean had learned a long time ago he enjoyed  _very_  much. Cas' movements were eager, not shy and slow like the hunter would have expected, and that realization sent an excited thrill running through the human's entire body, so maybe it wasn't too much of a surprise that sooner rather than later Dean allowed his tongue to travel, to wander, sliding forward and out of his mouth, trailing Cas' lips curiously, greedily, tasting andsilently asking for permission.

Dean actually fucking  _whimpered_  when Cas opened his mouth to let him in, and he shuddered when the angel's own tongue darted into his mouth, gasping in surprise at the feeling, then groaning lowly in his throat.

His hands wanted to explore, and the hunter found that he couldn't deny them that. They traveled forward on their own, gripping at Cas' clothes, clinging to the lapels of the angel's coat, and Dean had to literally fight back the urge to pull the seraph forward, to press that warm, firm body against his, to allow his hands to wander where they wanted to, to slide a leg in between Cas' and (hopefully) find that the angel was enjoying this just as much as he was, maybe even feel Cas shudder against him. He really,  _really_  wanted to—

Fuck, he was getting carried away.

Not wishing to overwhelm Cas, Dean forced himself to pull away, tearing their mouths apart abruptly, jerking his head back quickly in an effort to put some distance between them, his breathing already a little heavier than normal. His lower half had already taken interest in their current situation, and Dean cursed inside his head when he realized that, because he didn't want to scare Cas in any way, didn't want to cross any lines. They really should stop now, before the angel noticed that little Dean was getting a bit  _too_ happy about this, because apparently Dean had gone right back to being a horny, hormonal teenager with absolutely no control over his bodily reactions. He really couldn't remember the last time he'd started getting hard so fast—at least not recently, anyway—and with so little action, too. They hadn't even properly touched, for fuck's sake. All they'd done was kiss a little, but his body had clearly decided it wanted more.

However, Dean's plans to take a moment to slow down and calm himself—and hopefully get his completely inappropriate erection under control—went right down the drain only a couple of seconds later when Cas leaned forward, moving quickly to close the distance between them once again, though he didn't go for the hunter's mouth this time

No, instead, the angel tilted his head to the side and started freaking _mouthing at Dean's neck._

Dean gasped as soon as it happened, shuddering at the feeling of that wet mouth pressing against the side of his throat, of what hot breath washing over his skin in the most  _delicious_ way. He closed his eyes without a thought, and his hands moved again, this time to grip at the angel's sides as the human let his head fall backwards to give Cas better access. His dick twitched happily in his pants, clearly pleased with the new turn of events.

"Cas..." Dean wheezed out, voice coming out broken and breathy, followed by a small, needy whine that the hunter would vehemently deny later on. "I... not that I'm not... that I'm not enjoying this, because I am, trust me, but...  _fuck."_ Was that fucking  _teeth_? Fuck, where the  _fuck_  had Cas learned that? Sure, the angel wasn't a virgin anymore, but as far as Dean knew, Cas had only had sex  _once_. How the  _hell_  was he so good at this? "You might... you might want to stop. Like, right now."

"Why?" Cas' voice was just a low rumble against his skin, almost sounding like an actual fucking growl, and Dean shuddered again because of it.

Another shaky breath escaped the hunter's mouth, followed by another whimper when he felt Cas' tongue dragging against his skin. His hands twitched, begging for him to allow them to travel higher, to grip at the hair on the back of Cas' head, to tug at it a little, but Dean kept them where they were, only allowing them to tighten their grasp around the fabric of Cas' coat, probably rumpling it in his hands. He could no longer think coherently, could barely conjure up even a single rational thought with that hot, glorious mouth attached to his neck like that, so it truly was a wonder that he even managed to speak at all in that moment.

"I might... I might be getting a little carried away, honestly," he breathed out.

That was enough to make Cas pause, and soon enough that mouth was gone and the angel was leaning away from Dean. When he came into view, the hunter noticed that the seraph's eyes were dark, but not in a bad way—his pupils were actually freaking dilated, and the realization that the angel seemed to be  _aroused_  was almost too much for Dean to handle. Cas' breathing was labored, too, and when he spoke again, the seraph's voice was even lower than before, gravelly and rough, which was definitely not helping with the current situation down in Dean's pants. "Do you want me to stop, Dean?"

_No,_ Dean's mind instantly replied, but the hunter somehow managed to hold the word back before it could jump from his lips without permission. He took in a few deep breaths, hoping it would help clear his head from the fog of lust and arousal that had filled his mind, clouding his thoughts and making it considerably hard to concentrate on anything that didn't involve more touching and kissing. It was only in that moment that the human noticed Cas' hands had dropped from his face at some point and were now resting on his hips, one on each side of him. Dean could feel the warmth escaping the angel's palms and seeping into his clothes and skin, and that was definitely not helping him concentrate on his current task.

"I just... I don't want to push you, Cas," Dean finally managed to say. "I don't want to... to make you do something you're not ready for, or that you don't want."

Cas smiled softly at him, and he seemed almost... amused by those words, though the hunter couldn't really imagine why. "Dean, I think I've done enough waiting. Both of us have, actually."

Dean blinked at Cas, and it took him a moment to actually process what he'd just heard. Was Cas... was he actually suggesting that they should have sex? Like, right now?

Like,  _right now?_

Dean's dick twitched again at that thought, as though wishing to make sure that the hunter was aware of the fact that it was very much on board with that plan.

For fuck's sake.

"Cas, I..." Dean shook his head, closing his eyes, doing his best not to let himself get lost in all the urges currently simmering underneath his skin, all the impulses he could feel fighting for dominance inside of him. He had to actually think about this, to figure out if Cas really wanted this, or if the angel was just going along with it because he knew  _Dean_  wanted it. "Are you sure?" was all he managed to ask, opening his eyes again to gauge Cas' reaction to his words.

The look he found in the angel's eyes was warm and light, that same happy spark from before making yet another appearance, though it looked even brighter now. "I'm sure," the angel replied easily, not even a single hint of hesitation or doubt audible in his voice. He was being completely honest; Dean could instantly tell. "I can assure you, Dean. I've wanted this for a long time."

Dean couldn't help it—he smiled, big and dopey, a small, breathy, incredulous chuckle slipping out of his mouth. Fuck, he couldn't  _believe_  this. It seemed too good to be true, like one of the countless dreams he'd had about this very moment over the past ten years, but somehow he knew that wasn't the case here. Somehow, Dean knew he wasn't dreaming. This was actually  _happening_. This was  _real_.

Mirroring Cas' actions from earlier, Dean lifted a hand, finally allowing himself to do what he wanted and cupping the angel's face with his palm, and he felt truly delighted when the angel tilted his head a bit to the side so that he could lean into the touch. He wanted to kiss Cas again, wanted to pull him even closer, to press the angel's body flush against his own, but he held back from giving in to any of those urges just yet. There was still something he wished to say right then, and he refused to do anything else before he did it.

"Cas, if you want to stop, at any time, all you gotta do is say something. If you're uncomfortable about anything—and I really mean  _anything_ —you gotta tell me, and we'll stop. But you  _have_  to tell me if I cross a line. Can you promise me that?"

Cas smiled at him again, the look in the angel's eyes bright and genuine. He nodded slowly, "Of course, Dean."

And that was all Dean needed to hear.

The hunter moved forward, albeit slowly this time, because while there was still a flame of arousal burning bright and strong inside of him, it had weakened somewhat while they'd been talking, so the hunter could think a bit more clearly now, could take his time and enjoy a slow, tender kiss before his body inevitably realized where this was going and he got himself worked up again. Cas seemed more than happy to let Dean take the lead, allowing the change of pace without complaint, and he sighed against the human's mouth, letting their lips dance almost lazily against each other's, moving carefully, as though trying to memorize every detail, every shape and texture they could find. Dean let the hand that had been resting against the angel's face travel, easily finding its way to the back of the seraph's head, fingers burying themselves in that deliciously soft hair. Dean gripped at the strands a little, tugging lightly at them, and he was very pleased when Cas got the message easily enough and tilted his head, giving the hunter a much better angle to work with.

The kiss did not remain tame and slow for long, though. That heat inside of Dean grew hotter and more difficult to ignore with every second that passed, but this time, he didn't hold back, didn't push all his instincts away as soon as they made themselves known, and instead allowed them to lead his actions, letting his body do what it wanted. He let an arm wound itself around Cas' waist, pulling the angel to him, reveling in the feeling of finally,  _finally_  having that firm, warm body so close, pressed up against his own, and he smiled when felt Cas pull in a sharp breath against his lips. He let his tongue plunge right into the angel's mouth when that happened, letting it lick at everything it found, exploring with newfound enthusiasm, as though wishing to taste every single inch of the inside of Cas' mouth.

And then suddenly Cas' hands vanished from the hunter's hips, traveling lower, moving quickly and without a warning. Dean had no time to wonder what they were doing before they settled on the back of his thighs, and in the next second, the human could no longer feel the floor underneath him. He let out a startled yelp as he was suddenly lifted off his feet, hands moving quickly so they could grip at the angel's shoulders for support, but only a moment later Dean's ass met something hard and familiar, and he only had a second to process that Cas had just fucking hoisted him up and placed him on top of the fucking desk before the angel's mouth was on his neck again, and  _fuck_ , Cas was literally standing  _right between his legs_  right now. The hunter actually had to hold himself back from wrapping his legs around Cas' waist to pull the angel even closer, to press their freaking  _groins_ together—the single thought of it was already enough to rip another needy little whine right out of Dean's throat. But even if he didn't actually give in to that urge, in their current position, all the angel would need to do was lean forward a bit and he could—

Fuck, the door was open. How the hell had Dean forgotten about that?

"Cas..." Dean gasped out, closing his eyes as the angel continued to deliver kisses and careful, gentle bites to his neck. He wondered if Cas would actually leave a mark somewhere, and an excited thrill washed over the hunter at the thought.

Wait, he had something important to say, didn't he?

Oh, right. The door.

Right.

"Cas, the door..." he breathed out, "We should... we should probably, you know... close it." Because Dean really didn't want someone to walk by, heading to the kitchen to grab themselves a glass of water or something, and see, well,  _this_.

Cas didn't stop his ministrations, didn't for even a single second pause or lean away from Dean. No, he just lifted his hand and carelessly waved it through the air, as though gesturing at something behind him.

The door swung closed on its own, and the low click of the lock being turned quickly followed.

Oh. Alright then.

Fuck, why the hell did that turn Dean on even more? He was a  _hunter_ , for fuck's sake. Such a display of, well,  _supernatural_  powers should  _not_  have him so fucking aroused, but it did. It really, _really_ did.

Dean was growing hot and bothered in his own skin, clothes feeling far too tight around his body, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to be rid of them. So he forced himself to let go of Cas, removing his hands from the angel's shoulders, bringing them both closer to his own torso so that he could snake them in between their bodies, finding the front of his own shirt easily enough. He started fumbling with the buttons there, undoing them quickly, hurriedly, before shrugging off his plaid shirt and tossing it off to the side. He grabbed at his undershirt next, pulling at it, though he had to gently nudge Cas away from his neck for just a brief moment so that he could pull the damn thing over his head.

He pulled Cas back to him as soon as the shirt was gone, grabbing at the angel's tie and pretty much yanking him forward, crashing their lips together one more time. His right hand went back to gripping at the back of Cas' head, fingers burying themselves into that messy mop of dark hair, weaving themselves between those short locks, but his other hand did not return to its previous position on the angel's back, and instead started feeling around blindly until it finally found the seraph's arm. He grasped Cas' wrist in his hand and pulled it toward him, placing the angel's palm on his naked chest.

"You can touch me, Cas," he breathed against the angel's mouth, desperately wishing to feel those hands on his skin.

The angel complied without question, at first simply letting that one hand drag over the muscles on Dean's chest tentatively, carefully, as though getting accustomed to the feeling of them against his skin, and the hunter couldn't help but shiver because of it. Soon enough, though, the seraph's other hand joined the first one, getting bolder, more curious, and the next thing Dean knew was that both of the angel's hands were sliding over his skin eagerly, exploring the human's chest, his stomach, his back, as though attempting to map out every single curve and angle of his torso, to commit everything about it to memory, to find its hidden secrets. Dean growled lowly in his throat at all that attention, enjoying the feeling of those warm palms—of  _Cas'_  palms—pressing against his skin, worshipping his body like he was something precious.

Fuck, he wanted to feel more skin. He wanted to have Cas' skin under his hands, laid out for him to touch, to explore as he pleased. He needed to  _feel_  Cas.

At those thoughts, Dean felt his hands move again, grabbing at Cas' coat, not to steady himself this time, but to try and push the offending item of clothing off the angel's shoulders. Cas' hands vanished from his skin as soon as the hunter started his attempt at undressing the angel, and Dean grieved the loss of the touch at first, but he soon realized that Cas had a pretty good reason to remove those hands from his body, because in the next moment, the angel was grabbing at his own clothes, clearly intent on helping Dean remove them. The seraph took his coat off swiftly, followed by his suit jacket, and then fiddled with his tie, loosening it quickly before pulling it over his head. Cas tore their mouths apart for that last step, but he was quick to dive back in as soon as the tie had joined the rest of their discarded clothes on the floor.

But Cas was still wearing that damn white dress shirt, and Dean wanted it  _off_ ,  _now_.

The human grabbed hastily at the fabric of the shirt, looking for the buttons, though he fumbled a bit once he finally found them. It was ridiculously hard for him to undo them, his movements similar to those of someone with absolutely no coordination whatsoever, as though he'd suddenly forgotten how to use his freaking hands. That wasn't exactly surprising, though, considering Cas' hands had gone back to exploring Dean's naked chest by then and there was a tongue currently licking at the roof of his mouth—for fuck's sake, where had Cas even  _learned_  that?—making the hunter shiver and gasp and forget what the fuck he was even doing for a moment. But eventually, Dean finally managed to get all the buttons of the shirt undone, before swiftly pushing the damn thing off Cas' shoulders, and the angel finished shrugging it off, letting the shirt fall to the floor by his feet.

Dean pulled away from Cas then, and he smiled when the angel tried to follow him, before placing a hand on Cas' shoulder to stop him from leaning forward any further. Now that the seraph was completely naked from the waist up, Dean just wanted to take a moment to look at him—to  _really_  look and drink it all in—and they kinda needed to stop kissing for him to do that, as much as Dean wished that wasn't the case. He pulled his hand back just a second later, though, as soon as he realized what he'd done, that he'd touched Cas' bare skin without asking the angel if it was okay first, without checking if that would be crossing a line somehow or if the seraph was feeling overwhelmed. Cas had no reaction to the touch, though; he didn't even say anything, didn't give the hunter any indication that he might have done something wrong, so Dean didn't dwell on it too much, feeling his body to relax just a moment later and finally allowing his eyes to really focus on the sight of the half-naked angel standing right in front of him.

The hunter's breath got caught in his throat as soon as his eyes found Cas' naked torso, and his smile widened, a small, shaky breath snaking its way out of his mouth. And for a long, silent moment, Dean just sat there, drinking in the truly beautiful sight laid out right in front of him—that muscled body, not exactly heavily built, but still carrying such lean, carefully sculpted muscles that made the angel's body look like a true work of art, all of it covered in countless miles of delicious-looking tanned skin. Fuck, Dean had always wondered what the angel was hiding under all those layers, what Cas would look like without all those freaking clothes he insisted on wearing all the freaking time, and the hunter was definitely not disappointed with what he was seeing now. He felt his mouth water and his hands twitch just from looking at Cas, wanting to reach out, to touch, to  _taste,_ but he stopped himself before he could do any of those, still feeling fearful that he might end up crossing a line by doing so.

And apparently, his internal struggle had shown clearly on his face.

"You can touch me too, Dean," Cas whispered with a gentle smile. His hair was a true mess by then, completely disheveled, reminding Dean of how it used to look a few years back, when the angel had seemed to have a chronic case of bedhead. The hunter couldn't help but take a little bit of pride in the current state of Cas' hair, as well as in the fact that the seraph's breathing was a lot heavier than normal, that the angel was actually _panting_ at this point, or that the skin of Cas' face and chest was currently flushed, painted in red in a clear sign of arousal.

It was a good look on him, and Dean loved that he'd been the cause of it now.

Once again, even if he had Cas' outspoken permission, Dean still hesitated to move his hands, maybe because he still couldn't quite believe that this was really happening, because he hadn't yet managed to wrap his head around the fact that this was _Cas_ , and that they were here, about to... that they might actually freaking...

Dean swallowed drily, pulling in a steadying breath and letting it out slowly, then shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. "Are you doing okay?" he somehow managed to ask, voice coming out weaker than he'd intended because of how heavy his own breathing was. "I mean, I haven't... I haven't crossed a line or anything, have I?"

A small, tender smile bled into Cas' lips as soon as he heard those words. The look in the angel's eyes was just as warm and soft as it had been earlier, even if they very clearly carried a hint of arousal now, with the angel's pupils blown so wide. "I'm fine, Dean. Actually, I would say I'm more than fine. I can assure you that you have not crossed any lines. I told you I want this." Cas' voice didn't halt or waver in any way. There was no doubt in it, no hesitation, and once again the hunter could instantly tell that the angel was being completely honest with him.

So Dean nodded, accepting Cas' reassurances, though the movement turned out a bit too fast and jerky with his excitement. "Good. Good. That's... that's good."

He swallowed again, tearing his eyes away from Cas', letting his gaze find the angel's bare torso one more time, though his mind was still struggling to accept that he was actually  _allowed_ to touch, that the angel actually _wanted_ him to.

It took a while, but at some point, the human finally reached out again, with both hands this time, hesitantly crossing the distance between them and letting his palms rest on Cas' front, one on either side of the angel's chest. He sucked in a sharp breath as soon as his skin brushed against the seraph's, then let it out slowly just like before, though this one came out a bit strangled and shaky. He closed his eyes as he carefully explored Cas' chest and stomach, movements shy and tentative at first, though it didn't take long for Dean to become bolder, for his hands to become curious, more insistent, sliding over the angel's skin hungrily, feeling firm, strong muscles under his hands and loving every second of it, getting lost in the feeling of Cas' hot, naked skin right under his palms.

Fuck, he wanted to feel that bare chest against his own, wanted no layers between them, no barriers, just miles upon miles of that deliciously tanned skin for him to touch and taste. Dean felt a fresh new wave of arousal pour into him at those thoughts, at the images that came with them; felt his heart speeding up inside his chest and his dick twitching again where it was still concealed in his pants.

He swallowed again, then opened his eyes and lifted his head so that he could look at Cas. His voice sounded wrecked, nothing more than a hoarse, husky whisper when he said, "Cas, I... I think we should move this to the bed."

It took Cas a second to understand what Dean was implying with that comment, but soon enough the angel was nodding. He leaned forward to place a short kiss to Dean's mouth, tender and light, a clear contrast to what their kisses had been like just a moment ago, before the angel's hands moved to grip at Dean's thighs just like they had before. Cas picked the hunter up from the desk easily, effortlessly, as if the human didn't weigh more than a feather, but Dean was prepared for it now, so he didn't yelp or anything. Instead, he simply wrapped his legs around the angel's waist, gripping at the seraph's bare shoulders with his hands, breath shaking as their naked torsos were suddenly pressed together, all warmth and skin and heat and fuck, did it feel good. Dean couldn't help but hiss at the friction that being pressed against the angel like that caused on his clothed, by now half-hard cock, letting his eyes slip closed, not quite managing to stop the low, growled out moan that tore from his throat at the feeling, hands tightening around Cas' shoulders and short, blunt nails digging into the seraph's skin.

It took only a few seconds for them to reach the bed, and Cas lowered Dean onto it easily, carefully placing the hunter on his back on top of the mattress, before leaning back so that he could stand by the foot of the bed. Planting his elbows onto the mattress on either side of his torso and partially lifting his upper body off the bed, Dean watched as Cas bent down, apparently to do something with his hands, something the hunter couldn't see because the bed was partially blocking his view, though judging by the way Cas' shoulders and arms were moving, as well as the way the seraph would sometimes shift his weight as his hands worked, the hunter assumed the angel was taking off his shoes, and maybe his socks, too. Dean, however, had decided to forgo shoes and socks when he took his shower earlier, having chosen to remain barefoot instead, which meant that he didn't have to worry about that now, so he just stayed where he was, panting silently on the bed, simply waiting for Cas to be done ridding himself of his footwear—a bit impatiently, though; he had to admit it.

Thankfully, Cas was done with his task soon enough—just a handful of seconds later, really—and the next thing Dean knew was that the angel was climbing onto the bed to join him, crawling toward the hunter, the look in the angel's eyes dark and hungry and sending a chill down Dean's spine, and suddenly they kissing again, hot and messy and not even the slightest bit gentle, which ripped another moan right out of the hunter's throat. Dean lifted a hand to grip at Cas' hair again, pulling the angel as close as he possibly could while he let his body fall back down to properly lay on the bed underneath him, and he was really fucking pleased when Cas seemed to take the hint, sliding on top of the hunter without a question, planting a knee onto the mattress on either side of Dean so that he was properly straddling the human. Dean's other hand grabbed at the angel's chest, then slid all the way around to the seraph's back, feeling and exploring, reveling in how those muscles moved under his palm, how they seemed to so graciously shift and ripple every time the angel moved.

However, for some reason, Cas seemed to be deliberately trying not to rest his weight on Dean, like he was being careful not to let his body actually press down onto the hunter's, which was just completely ridiculous and didn't make any sense, so Dean decided to fix that. He used the hand currently resting on the angel's back to pull Cas down against him, gasping against the seraph's mouth the moment their bare chests touched again, the moment he felt all that warm skin being pressed against his own, hot and delicious and soft and fuck, it felt  _so fucking_  good. His cock was actually hurting by now, pressing against the zipper of his pants, and the hunter wanted nothing more than to free it, to finally let it join in on the fun, but he quickly decided that should probably wait just a little bit longer.

So Dean simply let himself enjoy this for a moment, let himself get lost in all the sensations currently overwhelming all his senses, flooding him from all directions, in every way. The taste of Cas' mouth; the texture of the angel's tongue; the heat of his body; the feeling of those slender hands exploring his skin; the sound of the angel's heavy breathing; his smell, so clean and minty and undoubtedly  _Cas_ —Dean couldn't enough of it. He was addicted already.

That actually went on for a while. For several minutes, all they did was kiss and feel, hands touching curiously, learning and exploring, wet lips sliding together nonstop, the sound of their heavy breathing filling the air of the room, the heat between them growing hotter with every new brush of their tongues, so much that Dean truly felt like his body was burning up, as though he actually had a fever. And unsurprisingly, the hunter was growing impatient really fucking fast, wanting—no, _craving_ more, so at some point, he finally allowed his hands to travel lower, letting them move as they pleased, and before he could think better of it, before his mind could truly register what he was doing, his palms were cupping Cas' clothed ass, grabbing a handful and just _squeezing_ , and he  _loved_  it, loved the way the angel gasped into his mouth when he did it. Dean didn't stop there, though, because there was a thought in the forefront of his mind that he couldn't quite push away, that he could no longer ignore, and he didn't exactly have enough working brain cells left to really think it through. So in the next moment, he was pulling Cas' hips down to meet his, grinding up to meet the movement, trying to—

"Oh,  _fuck."_

Dean's breath stuttered, eyes rolling back as actual freaking stars burst to life behind his eyelids. His mouth fell slack, and he repeated the movement once, twice, chasing the waves of pleasure that washed over him when his erection brushed against Cas', against the distinct shape of the angel's cock, because _fuck_ , Cas was  _hard._ Dean could feel it—the hard length right at the front of the angel's pants, probably already tenting the fabric. Dean's head actually started freaking spinning at that thought.

A low moan reached the hunter's ears as their clothed, hardened cocks brushed against each other's, the sound clearly coming from the angel's throat, a low rumble that seemed to echo within Cas' chest, that seemed to resonate with something deep down in Dean's very core, and fuck if that wasn't the most beautiful sound Dean had ever heard.

Yep, Dean really wanted those pants gone, and he wanted it freaking  _yesterday_.

Without another thought, the hunter allowed his hands to snake in between their bodies, quickly finding the front of his own pants and undoing the button and zipper, then grabbing at the waistband, lifting his lower half off the mattress just a few inches so that he could take his pants off. Cas lifted himself off the hunter once he noticed that, probably so that he wouldn't be in the way, but he didn't just linger there for long. No, once the angel finally seemed to understand what Dean was trying to do, he was quick to help, practically yanking the offending pair of pants all the way off the hunter's legs and throwing it aside as soon as Dean was free from it. But Cas didn't stop there, apparently deciding that since he'd already moved away from Dean, he should probably take advantage of it, and he took that as a chance to undo his own pants, pulling them down his legs and easily taking them off, tossing them to the floor without a beat of hesitation, then doing the same with his socks—so he _hadn't_ taken them off earlier, then. Dean hadn't even noticed that until now.

And as soon as Cas was free of his pants, Dean found that couldn't quite get himself to look away from the obvious bulge at the front of the angel's underwear, feeling his hands twitching at his sides with the urge to reach out, to touch, to _feel._

_"You can touch me too, Dean."_  

Cas' words from earlier echoed inside the hunter's head, and that was all it took for Dean to move. This time, he didn't hold himself back.

He sat up on the bed, then planted his knees onto the mattress, raising his body so that he and Cas were pretty much at eye level, before reaching out and grabbing at the back of Cas' head with his left hand, weaving his fingers into the seraph's short hair and pulling the angel to him again. Cas let himself be moved without any resistance, allowing their mouths to meet again, letting their lips drag against each other's, practically merging together as the pair panted into each other's mouths, sucking and tasting and licking at anything they could find. Their naked chests were pressed together again, and Dean was quick to let his other hand find the angel's skin, caressing and clawing, repeatedly rubbing over the hardened little nubs that the seraph's nipples had become by then and reveling in the way Cas' breath hitched every time he did it. 

Dean's right hand was still begging him to allow it to travel south, though; to move where it really, _really_ wanted to go, and the hunter didn't try to stop it this time, didn't try to control his urges, or even fight them. Instead, he let his free hand move lower, brushing against Cas' skin as it traveled down, sliding over Cas' muscled stomach and coming to rest on the angel's navel, fingers burying themselves in the trail of soft, curly hair they found there. But somehow, by some freaking _miracle_ , Dean was still lucid enough to pause right then, before he could do anything else. He pulled away from Cas, just enough so that he could mutter against the seraph's mouth. "Cas... Can I?" He let his fingers trace the waistband of the angel's underwear as he asked it, making the meaning behind his words clear.

Cas nodded almost immediately. The look in the angel's eyes was even darker now, practically coated with lust, and there was no sign of doubt or hesitation in them as he breathed out, "Yes, Dean."

Dean still hesitated, though, pulling in a deep breath to try and calm down his nerves. He took a moment to steady himself before he finally allowed his hand to move, letting it slip past the waistband of Cas' underwear and find its way inside, and just a second later his hand was wrapped around the angel's shaft, firmly gripping that hard, _pulsating_ length, swallowing the sharp gasp that escaped the angel's mouth the moment Dean's hand found his cock.

"Fuck," Dean gasped out, closing his eyes so that he could fully enjoy this moment, feeling his own dick twitch in anticipation, happy—no, _thrilled_ with what was happening in that moment, but also silently asking for attention.

Dean decided that could wait a little while, though, because he was literally _holding Cas' hard, throbbing dick in his hand,_ and that was the only thing he could focus on right now.

He didn't waste any time. He didn't even hesitate. His brain no longer had the capacity to really think anything through at that point, so it truly should be no surprise that just a moment later Dean lunged forward to capture the seraph's mouth in yet another messy, sloppy kiss, and then he was moving his hand, squeezing at Cas' stiff cock, rubbing and pulling, letting his palm drag over the velvety skin slowly but insistently, massaging the angel's shaft with careful, practiced movements, all the while keeping their mouths pressed firmly together, sucking at the seraph's lips, smiling at every gasp, every groan, every pleasured sound that the angel let out because of the human's careful ministrations.

"Is this okay?" Dean somehow managed to ask, words coming out muffled and barely even audible as he muttered them against the angel's mouth, not even bothering to pull away from Cas as he spoke.

Cas' nod was eager, his voice rough and gravelly and fucking _wrecked_. "Yes, Dean. This is..." The hunter flicked his wrist, and Cas' voice broke as a small, pleasured gasp jumped from the angel's mouth. Dean couldn't help but smirk at the sound of it. "This is... this is more than okay."

Well, Dean was very happy to hear that.

So the hunter continued to work on Cas' cock, his movements growing less steady and controlled as the minutes passed, hand squeezing more tightly and dragging up and down the angel's length faster, more eagerly, filling the air with the erotic sound of skin repeatedly slapping against skin. Cas tore their mouths apart at some point, but the hunter was okay with that, because the angel didn't actually lean away from him when he did it. No, Cas simply moved his head to the side a bit, then lowered it, letting his forehead rest on the hunter's bare shoulder, which meant that from that moment on, Cas started making those beautiful noises right next to the hunter's ear, not to mention that the angel's heavy breathing was constantly washing over the human's naked skin, sending chills and shivers up and down his spine. When Dean let his thumb drag over the angel's slit, coating the head of Cas' dick with precome and using it to lubricate the movements of his hand a bit better, Cas let out his loudest moan yet, shuddering against the hunter and making Dean's own dick actually fucking _throb._ The hunter's erection was truly hurting by that point, heavy and demanding between his legs, but Dean only allowed himself to rub the heel of his free hand against it through the fabric of his underwear a few times, still way too concentrated on making Cas feel good, on meticulously squeezing and rubbing at the seraph's cock to do anything about his own situation downstairs.

Cas seemed to notice that, though, and before Dean could even process what was happening, before the hunter could prepare himself for it, the angel was reaching out, one hand quickly finding the clear outline of the human's hard cock at the front of his boxers, pressing lightly against it.

The hunter gasped both in pleasure and surprise when that happened, squeezing his eyes shut tightly, the movements of his hand abruptly halting to a complete stop. His hips gave a pathetic little jerk forward before he could stop it, desperately seeking more friction.

"Dean," Cas whispered into his ear, and Dean actually freaking shivered at the sound, "Do you...? Can I?"

Dean nodded eagerly in response, even before the meaning behind Cas' words truly registered in his mind. He didn't even care what the seraph was asking permission to do. He just wanted Cas to do it. He just wanted the angel to do something, _anything_ , and he wanted it  _now_. "Yeah, Cas. Fuck, yeah, you can... Please." He didn't mean for those words to come out so desperate and needy, but that's what happened, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Cas still hesitated for a moment, either preparing himself for what he was about to do or trying to figure out _how_ to do it, but soon enough the seraph's hand was moving again, traveling up a few inches, before easily finding its way into the hunter's underwear, feeling around, looking for—

"Fuck.  _Fuck."_

Cas didn't pause. He didn't even take a moment to get accustomed to the feeling of holding a freaking dick in his hand for the first time—or at least as far as Dean knew, anyway. The hunter was pretty sure that Cas had never done this with a guy before, but he had no way to know if the angel had ever gotten curious and, well, explored his own body at some point, if he'd ever done this to _himself_.

And fuck if that wasn't a train of thought Dean would very much like to revisit later. Probably in the shower.

Even if he'd (probably) never actually done this before, Cas didn't go slow at first. The angel really just went for it. He started moving his hand as soon as he found Dean's dick, and while his movements were clearly unpracticed and not quite right, the feeling of that warm, rough hand—of _Cas'_  hand—gripping his cock, massaging his shaft, milking him in the most delicious way was already enough to have Dean moaning, to have the hunter's entire body singing in delight, back arching and breath shaking in time with each stroke. The human let his eyes fall closed as he gasped and groaned, toes curling and hands tightening around whatever they were holding and— _fuck_ , Cas was moaning too, right into Dean's ear, and he didn't even—

Right. He was still holding Cas' dick in his hand.

Somehow, Dean still had enough clarity of mind in that moment to get himself to resume his previous ministrations, to continue massaging the angel's length, though his movements were considerably less coordinated now, since Cas was literally jerking him off too, at the _same freaking time_ , and fuck, it felt good. It felt _so fucking good—amazing,_ really, and it got even better when Cas lifted his head from the hunter's shoulder, turning it so that he could mouth at Dean's neck again, licking and nibbling at the sensitive skin of he found there, making Dean moan and shiver against the angel, eyes rolling back and mouth falling open in a silent gasp. The hand currently gripping at Cas' shoulder—when had he moved it there, anyway?—twitched, his entire body shaking and shuddering, breath stuttering in time with the movements of Cas' hand, with every tug at the human's hardened cock, with every brush of teeth against his neck, with every new wave of pleasure that washed over his body, flooding the hunter's nerves and making him pant and wheeze and whine, breathless and needy and _fuck_ , how did Cas even learn how to do this so fucking fast? It really didn't take long for the angel's movements to change from unsure and awkward to certain and honestly fucking _perfect_. Dean was actually worried that he wouldn't last much longer if Cas kept this up, and it was that particularly worrying thought that finally made Dean snap out of it, abruptly bringing the hunter back to the present.

He needed to get himself under control. He needed a pause, a break, simply a moment to catch his breath and try to calm down a bit, just so this party wouldn't reach its end before it could even properly begin, because wouldn't _that_ be absolutely mortifying. Dean might actually crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment if that happened right now.

So keeping that thought in the forefront of his mind, holding on to it as tightly as he possibly could, Dean somehow managed to get his hand to stop moving, pulling it out of Cas' underwear and leaning away from the angel before he could lose the tiny sliver of lucidity he'd miraculously found.

But of course Cas followed him, keeping his mouth firmly attached to the side of the hunter's neck and his hand very eagerly stroking Dean's now fully-hard cock, so the human had no other choice but to push lightly at the seraph's shoulders, trying to get him to move away, or at least to realize that Dean really needed him to stop, before it was too late. The hunter could already feel that familiar heat pooling into his belly, and there was no missing the way his hips had already started to subtly thrust forward without his consent, moving repeatedly in jerky little spasms that the human couldn't entirely control, as if they had a mind of their own, eager to chase every single drop of pleasure they could get until Dean finally got to that _glorious_ finish line—

Yeah, they really needed to stop. Like, right now.

Seriously.

"Cas..." Dean wheezed out, failing to keep his voice from trembling, or to stop the weak little whine that slipped past his lips as the angel continued to suck and lick at his skin. In that moment, the hunter found speaking to have become exceptionally difficult, the simple task of forming words suddenly a completely foreign concept to him. But somehow, he still managed to breathe out a few more. "Cas, just... stop... for a minute. Just... hold on a sec."

Cas stopped as soon as those words were out of the hunter's mouth, going completely still for a second, before he finally leaned back and away from Dean. The seraph pulled his hand out of the human's underwear hastily, as if he'd been burned, then fixed a pair of big, worried blue eyes on Dean, a heavy, confused frown forming in his brows. "Did I... did I do something wrong?" There was a clear hint of concern in the angel's gaze, strong and entirely genuine, and Dean couldn't help but huff out a weak, amused chuckle at the sight of it.

"No, Cas," he was quick to reply, shaking his head vehemently, because he definitely couldn't have Cas thinking that he'd done something wrong. He smiled soothingly at the angel, lifting a hand to cup the seraph's face. "You're doing... Fuck, you're doing great. No, you're doing _fantastic_ , actually. I just..." He paused, not entirely sure how to put his thoughts into words. He wasn't even sure what he wanted to do now that they'd stopped. His mind was racing, and the fact that he was still incredibly turned on definitely wasn't helping clear his head, so for what must have been at least a full minute, Dean struggled with organizing his thoughts, with trying to figure out what to say.

Until an idea suddenly occurred to him, and he swallowed drily because of it. He felt his heart speeding up inside his chest just from  _thinking_ about it, just from  _considering_ it. His mouth watered in expectation and his dick twitched happily in his boxers, urging him on, practically begging him to go through with his idea, but Dean still hesitated. He wanted to do it, _so fucking badly_ , but he was still afraid that he might end up pushing Cas too much, that he might end up doing something the angel wasn't ready for. But if he... if he asked Cas about it, if he made sure that the angel was okay with it, then maybe...?

"There's something else I wanna try," the hunter announced before he could think better of it, before the ability to speak could try to evade him again. "If you let me, I mean. But it's okay if you... if you don't want to do it. I won't be disappointed or anything. It's just something I... I mean, I don't expect you to just—"

"Dean."

Whatever words Dean had been about to let out died on the hunter's tongue the moment he heard Cas say his name so firmly. The seraph's tone was surprisingly strong, even if that single word came out just as low as a feeble whisper. The look in the angel's eyes was deadly serious, determined, so unnervingly intense that the human was rendered completely quiet just by the sight of it.

"You don't need to be so careful and afraid," Cas murmured, voice still strong and unwavering. There was no room for doubt or uncertainty amongst his words. "There's really no reason for it. I won't break."

Dean shook his head weakly, because Cas was completely missing the point here. "Cas, I just... I know you're pretty inexperienced. I don't want to freak you out or anything. I don't want you to feel like you _have_ to do anything just because _I_ want to, because that's not how this works. I just... I don't want to end up accidentally pushing you into doing something you're not ready for."

It was Cas' turn to lift a hand and cup the hunter's face, his touch gentle, careful, as though Dean were made of glass. He gave the human a soft, tender smile, and the sight of it was oddly soothing. Dean felt some of the tension in his muscles melt away because of it, felt himself relax minutely, shoulders sagging an inch at his sides. "I will tell you if I want to stop, Dean. I did promise you I would. But regardless..." Cas shook his head lightly, eyes growing softer, something fuzzy and warm bleeding into his gaze that the hunter had no freaking idea how to read. "I trust you, Dean. Wholeheartedly. You should know that already."

Maybe Dean _had_ known that already, but hearing it out loud, spelled out so openly, said in such a certain, honest tone was something entirely different, and Dean found himself unable to come up with something to say in response.

But apparently, Cas wasn't expecting a reply.

"Now, what is it you want to try?"

Dean still hesitated for a moment. It actually took him quite a while to snap out of it, but eventually, the hunter finally managed to make himself nod, albeit sharply, hastily, as though feeling the need to give Cas a response quickly, before he could change his mind about it. Once again, he decided to accept Cas' reassurances. His mind was soothed by them, the thick, dark cloud of worry that had been hovering over his head dissipating, turning into nothing more than a small puff of thin, white fog. He actually felt encouraged by the angel's words, felt a burst of courage filling him at the sound of them, pouring into his chest in waves, though he knew that he shouldn't wait too long to do something with it, or else that sudden bravery might fade, going up in a wall of smoke before Dean could actually make use of it.

So he was quick to ask, "Can you lay down on your back for me?"

Cas nodded without a question, without a moment of hesitation, apparently not even considering the hunter's request for even a single second before doing as he was told. He placed a short, almost chaste kiss to the hunter's lips, letting their mouths press together for a brief moment before he pulled away, and then without a word, the angel crawled up the bed and toward the wall, lowering himself onto the mattress, rolling over so that he was lying on his back, head coming to rest on one of Dean's fluffy pillows. The seraph's eyes were curious and filled with expectation when he looked back up at Dean, silently waiting for whatever would happen next, though he didn't say anything, didn't try to rush Dean in any way, which the hunter was very much glad for.

Dean had to take another moment to steady himself then. He closed his eyes, pulling in a couple of big, heavy breaths, then letting them out slowly, hoping it would help ease his nerves, until he finally managed to get himself to move. Licking at his oddly dry lips, he scooted closer to the angel on the bed, pausing when he was kneeling right beside him, taking a seat by the seraph's sharp hipbones.

"Cas, do you really trust me?" he asked, because he still felt the need to make sure, to hear it again. He just needed a reminder that this really was okay.

This was _Cas_. He couldn't fuck this up. He _couldn't_.

Cas nodded without hesitation, without a beat, the look in his eyes certain and sincere, warm in a way that had whatever ugly thoughts and doubts that had still been floating around inside the hunter's head fading away to nothing, squashed like bugs.

"I do, Dean."

After taking yet another deep breath, Dean lifted his slightly shaky hands, letting them grab at the waistband of Cas' boxers. The angel took the hint quickly enough, lifting his hips off the mattress just a couple of inches, which was already enough to allow the hunter to pull the seraph's underwear off swiftly and without any trouble, before tossing it aside.

And when he turned his head back around to look at Cas again, Dean froze, eyes immediately finding the beautiful, truly mouthwatering sight of the angel's erect cock, sitting proudly against Cas' belly, red and swollen, head shiny where it was coated with precome. Dean had to take a moment to appreciate that gorgeous view, licking his lips again without a thought, feeling them tingle with want, with _need._  And unsurprisingly, that sight alone was enough to have Dean throwing whatever flimsy attempt at conjuring up any kind of rational thought that he might have made in that moment right out the freaking window.

So the next thing Dean knew was that he was moving again, scooting closer to Cas and hurriedly finding his way between the angel's legs, settling in the space he found there. He bent his body forward without a thought, lowering his head and letting his tongue slip out of his mouth so that it could find the seraph's dick, and then he was licking a wet trail from the bottom of Cas' erect cock all the way up to the tip, closing his eyes and groaning lowly in his throat when the very distinct taste of precome filled his mouth, assaulting his taste buds.

Cas threw his head back against the pillow as soon as Dean's tongue found his cock, a loud, broken moan tearing right out of the angel's throat. The sound was enough to bring Dean back to reality, and the hunter hurried to lift his head, giving the angel a concerned look. "Is this okay?" he asked hoarsely, cursing himself inside his head, because he hadn't asked for permission this time. Damn it. He really needed to work on his self-control.

Cas had his eyes closed by then, and he was panting again, even if Dean really hadn't done much just yet. Without opening his eyes, Cas nodded, jerky and quick. "Yes. Yes, Dean, that was... that was okay. Very much so, in fact."

Dean smiled at the way Cas' voice broke several times as he spoke, at how the angel seemed to barely be able to form a full, coherent sentence in that moment.

That was good. This was okay. Cas said it was okay.

That was all the encouragement Dean needed to keep going, so the hunter nodded, chuckling breathily for only a second before he bowed his head again. And so, he continued to lick at the angel's shaft, giving it careful attention, making sure that every single inch of it was covered in his spit, all shiny and wet, even letting his tongue circle the head, polishing the tip, lapping up every single drop of precome he found there. Cas continued to make those beautiful sounds as he did it, those loud, broken, deliciously breathless moans, which jumped from the angel's lips in time with every brush of the hunter's tongue against the hot, velvety skin of his cock. The seraph's moans truly were music to Dean's ears, and every single one of them seemed to go straight to the hunter's dick.

Apparently, however, Dean still had a tiny bit of clarity left in his mind, just the smallest thread, because eventually he did realize that maybe they were making a bit too much noise, and as much as he hated it, as much as he wished he could find out just how loud he could get Cas to be, he knew that he had to say something about it. Someone might hear them, and Dean would very much prefer to avoid that from happening.

If it hadn't happened already, that was.

Ignoring that last thought, Dean raised his head, pulling away from the angel's cock just enough so that he could look at Cas again. "Okay, Cas, I'm really happy to hear you're enjoying this—really, I'm fucking _thrilled_ —but the Bunker has some pretty thin walls. We should probably try to keep it down."

The angel lifted his head to look at Dean, his eyes glassy and unfocused, like he wasn't actually seeing the hunter at all. The angel still nodded, though, apparently still coherent enough to understand the meaning of the human's words—or at least Dean hoped that was the case, anyway—though he didn't actually say anything in response. The seraph simply closed his eyes a moment later, letting his head fall back against the pillow, as though wordlessly declaring the matter to be dealt with and that Dean could carry on.

So that's what Dean did. Just a couple of seconds after Cas settled back against the pillow, the hunter went right back to working on the angel's dick, to letting his tongue drag against the skin of the seraph's length, tasting and exploring, and fortunately, Cas really did try to be quieter from then on. His moans turned breathy and strangled, like he was trying to hold them back, though there was no way to misread those news sounds. Dean could still very easily tell that the angel truly was enjoying this, especially with the way the seraph's muscles would tense up with every brush of the human's tongue, with the way Cas' back would arch a bit from time to time, or the way the angel's hands were gripping the sheets at his sides, rumpling the fabric between his fingers.

And at some point, Dean finally took Cas in his mouth.

The angel actually freaking _howled_ when he did it, mouth falling open, hanging slack as the seraph's entire body tensed up, as Cas' back actually arched off the freaking bed. Dean smiled proudly at the reaction, not even finding it in himself to care about the fact that there was just no freaking way that no one had heard _that_ , because _fuck_ , Cas was fucking _gorgeous_ like this. Dean _really_ wanted to see more reactions like that one, so he was quick to start sucking at the angel's cock, loving the taste of it, the weight of it on his tongue, the way he could feel it pulsating inside his mouth. He sucked and licked, bobbing his head up and down repeatedly, from time to time taking the head of Cas' cock all the way to the back of his throat and swallowing around it. The hunter's entire body lit up in delight at the way the angel seemed to completely lose it every time he did it, thrashing on the bed, hips canting up eagerly, desperately, probably without Cas' consent, chasing wave after wave of pleasure, trying to milk every single drop of it they could get.

When he noticed that Cas was actually pulling at the sheets, Dean reached out so that he could take the angel's hand, cradling it against his own palm for a few seconds as he pulled it toward his head, before placing it on his hair. And for a moment, he thought that maybe Cas wouldn't understand what he wanted, but he was very pleasantly surprised when the angel's fingers buried themselves in the short strands that covered the human's head, instantly pulling at them, tugging in the most delicious way possible as the hunter continued to worship Cas' dick with his mouth.

Dean's own dick was hurting even more by that point, demanding attention, practically _begging_ for it, so at some point, the human reached down, shoving his hand into his underwear to give himself a few strokes, moaning around Cas' shaft as he did it. And apparently, Cas really liked that, judging by the way the angel's breathing trembled when it happened, the way the seraph's entire body shook, the movements of his hips growing even more frantic, so much that Dean had to press his other hand down against the angel's hipbone to try and stop him from thrusting up, fearing that he might choke if Cas kept that up and his dick ended up hitting the back of Dean's throat the wrong way.

It didn't take long for Cas' movements to become a little _too_ irregular and desperate, though, so much that at some point, Dean found that he was no longer able to stop them. As soon as he noticed that, the hunter lifted his head again, removing his mouth from Cas' dick with a loud pop, smiling when his eyes found the sight of the angel, all sprawled out on the bed, breathless and flushed and completely fucking _wrecked_.

Honestly, Dean would _love_ to continue blowing Cas, to have the angel come in his mouth, just like this, but there was something else the hunter wanted to try, something he would love even more than that, and it was that thought that had made him pause.

However, as much as he wanted it, as much as every single cell of his body was pretty much  _begging_ him to do it, the hunter didn't know if he should bring that 'something else' up right now. He was still afraid to freak Cas out, to cross a line, and Dean was certain that  _this_  could very easily be where the line was.

But maybe Cas wanted it too. Maybe they could talk about it. Maybe...

It was worth a try.

Dean crawled over Cas slowly, shivering as their naked skin dragged against each other's, only pausing when he reached Cas' head. He planted his elbows onto the mattress so that he could hover over the angel, taking in Cas' completely disheveled state, with his skin flushed and hair an absolute mess, pupils blown so wide with arousal that there was no more than a thin ring of blue around each of them. Dean's smile widened at the sight, and the human leaned down to place a short, tender kiss to the seraph's lips. Briefly, Dean wondered if Cas could taste himself in his mouth, and the hunter's dick twitched happily at the thought. "Cas... how far do you want to go tonight?" he whispered against the angel's mouth when he pulled away, lifting his head just enough so that he could examine Cas' reaction to his words.

That thick curtain of lust seemed to dissipate a little from the angel's eyes as soon as he heard that question, and Cas suddenly looked a lot more alert and lucid as he took a moment to consider Dean's words. "I want you, Dean, in any way you'll have me. It's up to you how far we go."

Well, that didn't exactly answer Dean's question, but the human wasn't sure how else to inquire about the matter, how he could possibly voice his own thoughts and desires without unintentionally influencing Cas' decision. So he fell quiet, pressing his lips firmly together, struggling to find any more words to say.

When he seemed to decide that the silence had stretched on for long enough, Cas lifted a hand, cradling the human's face against his palm. "Tell me what you want, Dean, and I will tell you if I want it too."

Dean swallowed thickly, licking his dry lips again as he considered the angel's request. It sounded so simple when Cas said it like that, but it _wasn't_. Dean couldn't just... He couldn't just tell Cas what he wanted. Not with this. He _couldn't_...

But then again, how else could Dean figure out whether or not Cas was okay with it? How else would he know if this truly was where the line laid, if they didn't talk about it?

And what if... what if Cas wanted it too?

That single thought alone was enough to short-circuit Dean's brain, it seemed, because the next thing that came out of his mouth was a breathy, "I want you to fuck me, Cas."

It _would_ be easier for Dean to bottom, after all, since he had some experience in being on the receiving end—not much, admittedly, but, well, _some_. If they were to actually have sex tonight, this would be Cas' first time with a guy, so it would be a lot easier for the angel to top. It really would be better that way. And, well, even if Dean had rarely ever truly wished to bottom before, he felt a wave of arousal and excitement pouring into him at the thought of doing it with Cas, right here, right now. He truly _wanted_ to do it, so much that he was actually surprised.

Even if the thought of being inside Cas literally had him seeing stars, too.

However, it did occur to Dean, about a second after he said it, that maybe he could have phrased it a little better, because Cas might be bothered by his rather crude choice of words. But, well, it wasn't like he could take it back now and find a better way to voice what he wanted.

And Cas didn't seem to mind his wording, anyway. The angel actually freaking _smiled_ , for fuck's sake, the look in his eyes suddenly bright, almost _excited_. He nodded quickly, eagerly even, "Well, I do want that, yes."

Part of Dean wanted to do a freaking celebratory backflip when he heard those words, but the rest of him wasn't convinced. "Cas, are you sure?" the hunter insisted. "I really need you to be honest with me here. Please, Cas."

Cas' eyes softened, and his smile fell a little, turning into something much more gentle, just a small quirk of lips with no teeth showing at all. "Dean, I told you I trust you, and I meant it. But I need you to trust me too." The tips of the angel's fingers delivered a soft caress to the human's cheek, and Dean couldn't help but sigh at the feeling, closing his eyes and leaning into the touch like a freaking cat. "Do you trust me, Dean?"

Dean didn't even think, because he didn't need to. Of course he trusted Cas. Again, he trusted the angel with his life, with his freaking _soul,_ even. He truly did.

So he nodded quickly, without hesitation, without even a single doubt. He opened his eyes again so he could look at the angel, so he could more easily convey his sincerity when he answered, "Of course I trust you, Cas."

Cas' smile widened just barely, a hint of that bright, happy spark from before making itself known in the angel's blue eyes once more. "Then please believe me when I say that I want this, Dean. Because I truly do."

Dean still hesitated for a moment, eyes glued to the angel's, examining them, trying to read Cas, looking for even the tiniest hint that maybe the angel wasn't as certain about this as he sounded, that maybe there was still even the smallest spark of doubt in the seraph's mind about this.

But he found no such thing, and when that fact truly registered in the hunter's mind, when the meaning of Cas' words finally sunk in, Dean found himself nodding. "Okay," he breathed, "Okay. Okay." He leaned down to deliver another brief kiss to the angel's mouth, before pulling away. "Hold on," he muttered, shifting his weight so that he could lean away from Cas, reaching toward the drawer on his nightstand. He pulled it open hastily, making a little more noise than he'd meant to as he did it, before he started rummaging through its contents. And after about two seconds, he found what he was looking for, so he was quick to grab his prize and push the drawer shut again, moving back toward Cas.

"We need this," he explained, holding up a bottle of lube for the angel to see. "I mean, two guys, we don't... this helps, makes everything go, you know... smoothly."

Cas nodded, eyeing the bottle curiously as Dean deposited it on the bed so that he could grab the waistband of his boxers with both hands. The human took off his underwear quickly, _finally_ freeing his own throbbing erection, and his breath shook when the cold air of the room met the hot, sensitive skin of his leaking cock. He looked back up at Cas right after throwing the unwanted item of clothing over the edge of the bed, smiling when he realized that the angel seemed to be engaged in a very intense staring contest with the hunter's dick, the look in his eyes dark and heavy, almost _hungry_. Dean felt his cock twitch under all that attention, though he resisted the urge to give himself a few more strokes in favor of reaching out to pick up the discarded bottle of lube from where it had landed on top of the sheets. He squeezed it, pouring a good amount of its contents onto his fingers, making sure that all the digits were properly coated in a generous amount of lube before reaching behind himself. He figured it would be easier if he did this, if he opened himself up, considering Cas had most likely never done anything like this before.

So the hunter let his hand travel, easily finding its way between his ass cheeks, then pressed the tip of his middle finger to his hole, feeling that tight ring of muscle close up involuntarily at first, tensing in expectation. It relaxed eventually, though, and the human finally managed to slip the first digit inside, pushing in slowly, inch by inch. He couldn't help but hiss lowly at the burn that the intrusion caused, but he didn't let that initial burst of pain stop him. It would fade soon enough; he knew that from experience.

"You're... stretching yourself?"

Dean looked up to find Cas frowning at him, the angel's head tilted confusedly to the side. The question had been asked in a surprisingly calm manner, carrying nothing more than simple, honest curiosity, which made the words seem so freaking innocent that the sound of them actually punched a small, breathy laugh right out of Dean.

"Yeah," he replied, nodding. "I mean, it's... I gotta open myself up a bit before we do anything, or it'll hurt like hell afterwards."

Cas nodded slowly, seeming to ponder the hunter's words carefully for a moment. "Do you... do you need help? Do you want me to...?"

Dean paused, one finger still buried in his own ass, and for a long, silent moment, all the human managed to do was stare at Cas, mind failing to process what he'd just heard. Was Cas actually suggesting that he might want to...? But he didn't... He couldn't possibly want to...

"I mean, if you... if you want to, yeah," Dean somehow managed to croak out. "But only if you... Do you want to?" 

The angel seemed to think the matter over for a moment, before he finally nodded. "I... Yes. I believe I do, yes."

For yet another long moment, Dean simply blinked at Cas, completely stunned, trying and failing to register the meaning of the angel's words.

Until Cas moved, lifting a hand slowly, letting it rest on the hunter's bare shoulder. "Dean," he whispered, his eyes soft, almost pleading, "Can I?"

Dean swallowed drily at the sight, recalling his own words from earlier, about how he trusted Cas. He'd truly meant it—of course he had—so maybe he should start acting like it. The hunter really should trust the angel to decide what exactly he was comfortable with doing, and Cas _had_ promised that he would tell Dean if he didn't want to do something. And right now, the seraph was doing the very opposite of that.

Those thoughts were enough to finally get Dean to snap out of it, and an excited thrill ran through the hunter's entire body as soon as it finally registered in his mind that Cas actually wanted to stretch him open, that he wanted to get the human ready so that the angel could fuck him afterwards.

Fuck, how the hell was this not a freaking dream?

Dean nodded—a bit too eagerly, he had to admit. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. We can do that." He pulled his finger out of his hole and reached for the lube again. "Give me your hand."

Cas did as he was told, sitting up straighter on the bed and lifting his right hand, offering it to Dean. The hunter squeezed the bottle again, squirting a generous amount of lube onto Cas' fingers just like he'd done with his own, spreading the cold, slimy substance over the angel's skin before gripping Cas' wrist, carefully guiding the seraph's hand behind himself and toward his entrance. "Just one finger at first. And go slow. Just... try to push it in carefully..." He sucked in a sharp breath when he felt the tip of one of the seraph's fingers pressing against his hole, before it started to slowly inch inside, easily slipping past the ring of muscle at the hunter's entrance. Dean closed his eyes at the feeling, gasping silently, one hand coming up to grip at the angel's shoulder to try and steady himself. "Yeah, yeah, like that, Cas. Fuck, yeah, just like that. Now just... move it a bit, like, in and out. But go slow."

Again, Cas did as he was told— _exactly_ as he was told. He pulled his finger out slowly, then pushed it back in just as carefully, his movements patient and unrushed. Dean could very easily imagine the concentrated frown that had probably formed in the angel's brows by then, but the human couldn't quite find it in himself to open his eyes and actually see it.

"How do you know when... when it's enough?" Cas asked. His voice sounded much lower all of a sudden, and Dean shuddered a bit because of it.

The hunter's response came out raspy and breathless, "Once you can get three... three fingers in there and they're... moving fine and... easy, then we should be good. But I'll tell you when... when I'm open enough."

He didn't open his eyes to see it, but Dean was pretty sure he felt Cas nod.

And during the minutes that followed, Cas continued to finger him, letting his digit slide in and out of Dean rhythmically, insistently fighting the resistance he found as he moved his hand. The seraph's movements were clearly tentative and careful at first, as if he feared he might hurt Dean somehow, but it didn't take long for Cas to grow more confident about what he was doing, especially when Dean moved his other hand up to grip at the seraph's other shoulder, letting his eyes slip closed, pleasured little gasps jumping from the hunter's lips in time with the steady thrusting of the angel's finger.

Apparently feeling encouraged by the human's rather positive reactions to his ministrations, Cas quickened his pace gradually, growing bolder with every minute that passed, and soon enough Dean's entrance felt loose and welcoming around the seraph's finger, so the hunter instructed Cas to add another one. The burn returned when the second digit breached him, but just like before, the pain faded quickly, giving place to nothing more than pleasant friction as the skin of the angel's finger constantly dragged against the human's insides. Dean spread his legs as best as he could while still kneeling on the bed, trying to make it as easy as he possibly could for Cas, hopefully giving the angel a better angle to work with, and he couldn't help but smile when he felt the seraph tilt his head so that he could mouth at the human's throat. The addition of those hot, wet lips being pressed against Dean's skin had the hunter panting again, hands clenching repeatedly around Cas' shoulders, hips giving small, excited little thrusts forward from time to time. His stiff cock bounced a bit every time he did it, while a truly unholy amount of precome continuously leaked from the tip, steadily running down his length.

Eventually, the hunter told Cas that he could try spreading his fingers, that he could try to vary his movements a bit, and the angel was quick to comply, pressing curiously against the hunter's inner walls as he twisted his fingers experimentally, even folding them slightly a few times as he patiently widened Dean's entrance, which was by now very much coated in lube.

And soon enough, Cas allowed a third finger to slip inside—although only after asking Dean for permission, of course—his movements eager and fast, fingers pistoning in and out of the hunter repeatedly, almost desperately, making the hunter shiver and gasp, muscles tensing up rhythmically as the angel worked. And not too long after that, Dean realized that Cas' fingers were finally moving easily, meeting close to no resistance at all as they slid in and out of his hole, which meant that he was probably open enough.

When he opened his mouth to announce that fact, however, Dean didn't quite manage to let out all the words he'd wished to say.

"Okay, Cas, that's—ah, fuck, Cas, _fuck_."

For a moment, Dean saw actual fucking _stars_ behind his eyelids. His entire body tensed, shaken by a full-body-shudder as his back arched, toes curling, mouth falling slack and eyes rolling back. Every single nerve ending in his body seemed to have been lit on fire as a wave of pleasure washed over him, intense and powerful and overwhelming and so fucking sudden that at first, Dean didn't even know where the hell it had come from.

When it all faded only a moment later, however, leaving Dean breathless and feeling tingly all over, the human finally realized what had happened: Cas had folded his fingers again, and this time, he'd apparently done it just the right way, finding the perfect angle, accidentally nailing that sweet, _sweet_ spot inside of Dean.

The hunter smiled, huffing out a small laugh at that realization, but the sound died in his throat just a second later when he finally realized that Cas was completely frozen. The angel's fingers were still buried inside of him, but they weren't moving at all, and the seraph's shoulders seemed far too tense and stiff under the hunter's hands.

Dean frowned in confusion, still panting as he leaned away from Cas so that he could have a proper look at the seraph's face, and his confusion only grew when found the angel staring at him with wide eyes. The seraph actually looked alarmed, worry painting his features, clouding his gaze, though Dean had no freaking idea why.

"Cas, you okay?" he asked.

The angel seemed mildly perplexed to hear that question, looking like those words truly were the last thing he'd expected to hear in that moment, which made Dean feel like he was missing something here. "What was that?" the seraph asked. "You... I thought I'd hurt you."

Dean's confused frown deepened. What the hell was Cas talking a—

Oh. _Oh._

"That was... that was my prostate, Cas," Dean explained with a low chuckle, feeling his lips shaping themselves into an amused smile. "It feels really fucking good when you... press it or rub it or just touch it, really, so... you might wanna aim for that."

Understanding flooded the seraph's features, and he actually looked a bit relieved. He nodded slowly a second later, as though filing that new piece of information away for later.

And Dean kinda hoped that was exactly what the angel was doing, really.

But honestly, in that moment, the hunter didn't want Cas to find that glorious spot inside of him again with those slender fingers of his, as amazing as it had felt the first time. Dean was sure that he was open enough already, and right now, he wanted something a lot thicker than Cas' fingers inside of him, something that would have him seeing stars for a lot longer than just a few seconds.

Dean's dick gave an excited twitch at the thought.

So before the angel could start moving his fingers again, Dean announced, "But right now, I think... I think that's good enough, Cas. I'm open enough."

Cas considered Dean for a moment, as though trying to decide if the hunter was actually being sincere or if he was simply in a rush to get things going, but apparently the angel found whatever he'd been looking for in the human's face, since his eyes darkened visibly just a few seconds later. He pulled his fingers out of Dean without a word, and the hunter immediately grieved the loss of the contact, his stretched hole clenching forlornly around nothing but empty air, though he didn't have much time to dwell on how much he missed those fingers in him already.

Cas leaned forward quickly, pulling Dean to him without a warning and pressing their mouths together again, and in the next second his lips were already moving hungrily against the hunter's, a lot more eagerly than Dean had expected them to. The abrupt change knocked all the air right out of Dean's lungs, but the hunter recovered from his surprise quickly, and soon enough he was responding to the kiss with just as much enthusiasm.

That was, until the world suddenly shifted around him. Cas' hands moved quicker than Dean was able to process, flying down to grip at the human's thighs much similarly to how they'd already done twice before, lifting the hunter off the mattress completely for a second, and then the next thing Dean knew was that he was lying on his back on the bed, with Cas positioned right between his legs. The angel had both hands pressed to the mattress, each on either side of Dean, strong, toned arms stretched and supporting his weight easily, in a way that allowed the seraph to hover over the hunter after having flipped them over so effortlessly—and _fuck_ , why was that so freaking hot? Damn it. The fact that Cas could move him so easily, the newest reminder that the angel was probably about a million times stronger than Dean—because, well, _angel_ —really shouldn't be so damn arousing to the hunter, but it was.

Dean chose not to comment on that right now, however, because as he stared up at Cas, still a little disoriented, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath, another thought suddenly occurred to him, and the hunter found himself unable to stop his next words from tumbling right out of his mouth.

"Damn, Cas, how are you so good at this?" he breathed. "I mean, I thought... I thought you'd be, you know... more awkward, I guess."

Cas frowned down at him, suddenly looking concerned. "Is that an issue?"

Dean hurried to shake his head, chuckling. "Not at all, really. I just... I didn't expect it, I guess."

Cas shrugged, as though he believed the answer to the hunter's question was rather simple and obvious. "Granted, there is still a lot that I don't know or that I don't understand about it, I'm sure, but intercourse hasn't changed much since the creation of humankind, Dean. It is quite true that it's gotten more... creative, in ways, but essentially... there's not much secret to it. And you do forget that I was assigned to watch over humanity for thousands of years."

Dean's eyebrows rose up to his forehead in surprise at those words, because, well, he definitely hadn't expected to hear _that_. "And did 'watching humanity' include watching people... ya know?" he couldn't help but ask, choosing to ignore the fact that Cas had actually just called sex freaking  _intercourse_ for now. They _would_ need to come back to that later, though.

The angel shrugged again, though he did look a little sheepish, and while he didn't actually give Dean a verbal response, that gesture alone was already answer enough.

Dean huffed out a laugh, shaking his head lightly, though he chose not to comment on the fact that Cas was apparently a bit of a creep. He certainly hadn't expected _that_ to be the angel's explanation, but honestly, he was more amused by it than anything else. There was just something weirdly hilarious about the thought of Cas squinting confusedly at some random couple from way back in the freaking Middle Ages or something, his head tilted in confusion as he stood as stiff as a freaking statue in the corner of the room, trying and failing to understand what exactly was happening right in front of his eyes.

It reminded the hunter of the whole porn situation a few years back, with the pizza man and the babysitter. That memory still amused Dean to this day.

"I do have to admit, however, that the whole concept of sexual intercourse—" And there was that damn word again, "—for any purpose that didn't involve procreation was a mystery to me up until very recently. But ever since I Fell, ever since I was _human—"_ Cas paused, swallowing visibly, apparently struggling with his words. It was quite an odd thing to witness, Dean thought. "I've never felt so close to my vessel, to _Earth_. I feel differently now than I did before. Everything's more... intense. It's both unnerving and... freeing, in a way." The corner of the seraph's mouth quirked up to form the ghost of a smile. "It's almost like, even if I'm still an angel, even after I found my own Grace again, I... It's almost like a part of me stayed human, and I... I'm quite happy about that."

Dean smiled, reaching up to cup the angel's face gently— _lovingly_ , he would dare say. "Well, I'm really happy about that, too. Although... well, I don't think that's all, Cas. I mean, you... you've always been different, from the very start, even before that whole mess with the Apocalypse. And you know, I think that's... that's why I fell for you." He honestly hadn't planned to say that, to make such an open confession, but when the hunter realized it, the words were already out of his mouth and he couldn't take them back.

For a moment, Dean was completely frozen, a cold wave of fear washing over his insides as he stared up at Cas with wide, shocked eyes, anxiously waiting for the angel's reaction to his words, even if maybe there was no reason for him to feel that way. Cas had been inside his _head_ tonight, for fuck's sake. After everything he'd seen in there, surely this wasn't anything new to him, but for some reason, Dean still felt his heart beating in his fucking _throat_ as he waited for the angel to respond.

But all that nervousness, all that dread dissolved into nothing only a few seconds later when the look in the angel's eyes shifted into something warm, something _happy_ , full of open, undisguised affection, and the seraph's mouth shaped itself into a gummy smile, the one that always had Dean's heart melting and that the hunter really wished to see more often. He couldn't help but smile back just as brightly, chest feeling several pounds lighter as his entire body was suddenly flooded with relief.

Dean wasn't sure who moved first, but the next thing he knew was that they were kissing again, slow and sweet, and he melted into it with a happy sigh, feeling his muscles relax and turn completely pliant under the angel's body.

However, it didn't take long for that simmering heat between them to grow hotter again, for their ignored erections to demand attention, and just a minute later their kisses had already turned hungry and dirty again, tongues curling and brushing together, pushing into each other's mouths as though they'd never done it before. At some point, Cas lowered his body, pressing it down against Dean's, trapping the hunter against the mattress, and Dean moaned lowly at the feeling of all that skin suddenly blanketing him, soft and warm and fucking delicious under his wandering hands. Without a thought, acting completely on pure, raw instinct, the hunter shifted his hips, thrusting upward, trying to angle the movement just right, trying to find—

His dick rubbed against Cas', and he gasped into the angel's mouth, swallowing the pleased growl that seemed to emerge from deep within the seraph's chest when their throbbing lengths were suddenly pressed together. Cas let his own hips grind down against Dean's, rolling them once, twice, _thrice_ , causing their hardened cocks to slide deliciously against each other's just the right way and _fuck_ , Dean was seeing fucking stars again.

"Oh, yeah, Cas, ah.... _fuck."_ Dean moved his hands up to grip at the angel's shoulders, voice breaking several times as he tried to speak, small whines and breathless moans slipping past his parted lips without his consent. "Fuck, that feels good. Cas—ah— _Cas_."

He let his eyes slip closed, lowering his head back against the pillow, mouth hanging open in a silent gasp as Cas' mouth found his neck again, as the angel continued to grind against him, a continuous string of raspy, broken moans falling from the human's lips in time with the movements of the seraph's hips. Dean felt his muscles melt even more, body settling against his memory foam mattress, the feeling of it underneath him familiar and welcoming, just as it always was, though of course there was something different about it tonight.

As surprising as it may be, this was actually the first time Dean was having sex here in his room, on his own bed. Every single one night stand he'd had ever since he and Sam had moved into the Bunker had taken place at a motel, at his partner-for-the-night's residence or in the backseat of the Impala, even the ones from nearby, because of course he couldn't bring anyone to their secret lair. That would be incredibly stupid, not to mention dangerous.

So now, there was something weirdly exciting about having _Cas_ here, about the angel being the first (and only) one that Dean could share this private piece of his life with. That sounded ridiculously corny even inside Dean's head, but those thoughts were still enough to make the hunter feel warm all over, the faintest hint of a smile touching his lips before he could try to stop it.

Until Cas ground down against him again, of course, flooding Dean's insides with yet another wave of pleasure, ripping another hoarse moan right out of the hunter's throat and abruptly bringing him right back to the present.

Fuck, this felt good— _amazing_ , really. Better than any fantasy Dean could have ever conjured up in his mind.

However, as much as he was enjoying this, as wonderful as humping naked like a pair of horny freaking teenagers felt, Dean really, _really_ wanted to get this show on the road. His dick was painfully hard by now, aching and begging for release, and Dean _really_ wanted to come with Cas' dick buried in his ass.

Just the thought of it was enough to make his cock twitch, a pitiful little whine leaving his mouth without his permission.

"Cas, please. Please, I—ah, _ah._ I'm... I'm ready."

The angel stilled his movements as soon as those words left the hunter's mouth, and Dean opened his eyes to find Cas staring down at him with dark, hooded eyes, that same curtain of lust and want from before clouding the seraph's gaze in the most beautiful way.

As unfocused as Cas' gaze seemed to be in that moment, however, the angel was apparently still coherent enough to understand Dean's words, because he nodded quickly, without even a second of hesitation, or even a single hint of confusion. At the sight, Dean stretched out his left hand so that he could start patting the bed around him, letting the appendage wander blindly as he searched for the discarded bottle of lube he knew he'd dropped somewhere to his left earlier. And fortunately, he found it easily enough, so he hurried to bring it toward him, squeezing the body of plastic until he'd made a small pool of lube on his palm, before tossing the bottle aside once more. Without a word, he lifted his other hand to grip at the angel's messy hair, pulling the seraph down for a slow, tender kiss as he let the hand he'd just coated in lube travel, snaking between them, and he was glad when the angel shifted on top of him, lifting his body from Dean's just enough to allow the human's hand to wander freely and without finding any obstacles in its path.

And when he finally found the seraph's length, Dean gripped it tightly in his fist, reveling in the way Cas gasped against his mouth when he did it. The hunter wrapped his hand firmly around that delicious, still-very-much-hard cock and gave it a few strokes to cover it in lube, ripping a handful of delicious moans right out of Cas' mouth, which the human eagerly swallowed. When Dean was satisfied with the amount of lube covering Cas' dick, he shifted on the bed, lifting his hips off the mattress to give Cas a better angle. He guided the angel's length toward his entrance slowly, and his breath hitched at the feeling of the head of the angel's cock poking at his perineum.

Briefly, he wondered if they needed a condom, but just a couple of seconds later he decided that they probably didn't. Cas was an angel, for fuck's sake. Dean was certain that there was no way he could get anything from Cas, and the angel definitely had no reason to worry about getting something from the hunter, either. And it wasn't like Dean could end up pregnant from this, so really, what was the point of a condom? The thing would just be constantly getting in the way.

And, well, Dean _did_ have an Angel Blade hidden under the bed for emergencies, so _technically_ , by Cas' standards, they _were_ protected.

Heh.

Dean pulled their mouths apart just a few inches, just enough so he could whisper against the angel's mouth, "Just... go slow at first, Cas. And I'll need some time to adjust once you're, you know... inside."

Cas nodded, suddenly looking a lot more lucid than he had just a few seconds prior, though he didn't move immediately. The angel was frozen for quite a while, actually, as though trying to find it in himself to move, a heavy frown of concentration forming in his brows as he seemed to examine Dean's face, as though looking for something in the human's features—maybe a hint of hesitation or doubt, Dean guessed.

So the hunter lifted a hand again, letting his fingers brush soothingly against the rough skin of the angel's cheek. "I'm ready, Cas. Please."

That seemed to be enough to quell whatever doubts and fears had been plaguing the angel's mind, because Cas nodded again, pulling in a big, deep breath, before he finally started pushing in.

It had been quite a while since the last time Dean had bottomed, so unsurprisingly, his body tensed up at the intrusion at first, that same sharp, burning pain from before making yet another appearance, coming back with a vengeance, practically screaming at him, as though trying to warn him that the angel's dick had a lot more girth than three fingers, as if Dean didn't know that already. It hurt—of course it did—and even if Cas was moving very slowly, breaching Dean as carefully as he possibly could, as soon as the head of the seraph's dick slipped inside of him, the hunter couldn't help but let out a small, low pained hiss, feeling his features morph into a wince without his consent.

And of course Cas stopped moving as soon as it happened, instantly freezing right above the hunter.

"Dean?" the angel asked, worry practically dripping from his words. His eyes were wide and fearful as they searched the hunter's face again, looking for something in the human's features just as they'd done before, though his gaze seemed even more intense now, more urgent. "Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?"

Dean shook his head quickly. "No, Cas. No, it's... it's okay. It hurts at first—always does, really. It's normal. Just... move slow, and when you're... when you're fully inside, just... stop for a moment, let me adjust." When he noticed that the angel didn't look entirely convinced, Dean offered him a small, reassuring smile. "Seriously, Cas, it's okay. I'll be fine. I really don't want to stop. The pain will fade. Trust me."

And apparently, that was the right thing to say. Cas finally nodded, features smoothing out, some of the worry and fear that had been so painfully clear in those azure eyes fading away, the shift so sudden it was like a switch had been flipped. And then the angel's hips were moving again, pushing in even more slowly than before, though this time, Cas kept his gaze resolutely focused on Dean's face, as if examining every single shift in the human's expression, looking for even the tiniest hint of pain or discomfort.

So Dean tried to hold the seraph's gaze, tried to not give away any sign that he was in pain, fearing that the angel might stop moving again, though fortunately that weirdly intense staring contest didn't last too long. At some point, Cas didn't seem able to control his reactions anymore, and his expression changed, mouth falling open as he let out small gasp, jaw hanging slack as his eyes slipped closed, probably overwhelmed by the feeling of his dick sinking deeper and deeper into Dean's heat. With every second that passed, another inch of the seraph's cock found itself surrounded by tight, hot skin, squeezing at the angel's length in all the right ways, and Dean watched in awe as Cas' expression changed, as the pleasure he was certainly feeling grew more and more obvious in the seraph's face.

It was truly an amazing sight, and the hunter couldn't help but smile at it. He was truly mesmerized by that scene, feeling that heat inside of him grow even hotter because of it, burning brighter, lighting up everything it touched inside of him.

That was, until Cas finally bottomed out, and Dean could no longer control his own reactions. The hunter's mouth felt slack without his consent, a low, breathy moan slipping past his parted lips as he let his head fall back against the pillows. Fuck, he felt so fucking _full_ , and he _loved_ it, loved that it was _Cas_ buried inside of him as deep as he could possibly go, big and hot and throbbing and fucking _perfect_.

It occurred to Dean then that this was the second time he had Cas inside of him tonight, although _this_ way of doing it was a lot more fun than the previous. Dean almost chuckled at that thought— _almost—_ but an amused smile did form on his lips.

Heh.

Cas didn't move once he was fully seated inside of Dean, just as the hunter had instructed. Instead, he simply panted above the hunter, struggling to catch his breath while Dean adjusted to the girth of the angel's cock sheathed so deep inside of him, waiting for that sharp, insisting pain to fade.

And eventually, it did. It didn't too long for the pain to grow duller, and as soon as Dean noticed that most of it seemed to be gone, he twisted his hips experimentally, checking to see if the movement would hurt.

It didn't.

Cas groaned softly above him as soon as he did it, and Dean opened his eyes to find the angel staring at him with wide, curious eyes—almost pleading, really, a silent question clear in the seraph's gaze.

Dean smiled up at him, giving the angel a small nod, bright green eyes turning soft and reassuring. "You can move now, Cas. The pain's gone."

Cas apparently didn't need to be told twice.

The angel started moving his hips slowly at first, calm and patient just like before, as if he was still afraid to hurt Dean somehow. He pulled out carefully, took a breath, and then pushed back in, letting his eyes slip closed again and moaning lowly in his throat as he did it, as his cock disappeared inside of Dean once more, as the hunter's body squeezed at his length from all directions as he leisurely slid back in. Dean gasped at the feeling, glad that he could no longer feel any pain, and the angel must have taken the sound as a good sign, because he didn't even hesitate before repeating the movement, before sliding out and then back in again, then again, then again, building up a slow but steady pace.

And it felt fucking amazing. No fantasy Dean had ever made up in his mind, no dream he'd had in the past ten years could have ever come even close to the real thing, to the actual feeling of Cas' cock pulsating inside of him, filling him in a way that had Dean's entire body singing in delight, and fuck, it really had been a good choice to forgo the condom. He could feel every single inch of Cas this way, even single patch of that hot, velvety skin brushing against his insides, dragging against his walls in the most delicious way, and he fucking _loved_ it.

Cas didn't remain so patient for long, however, and soon enough the movements of his hips became faster, picking up a much more eager pace. The angel's breath kept hitching, shaking and stuttering in time with his thrusts, choked groans and whines nearly constantly slipping past Cas' parted lips. The angel's skin glistened as a thin layer of sweat began to form, coating the seraph's entire body, making every single detail and shape of his defined muscles all the more obvious as the light danced over his writhing form. Dean licked his lips at the sight, really wishing that he could get a taste, but the angle wasn't quite right for it and he doubted that he could bend his body the right way to do that at the moment. Later, he decided.

At some point, Dean decided there was a way to make this even better, so he lifted his left leg, bending it slightly as he pressed it to Cas' side, right against the angel's hipbone.

"Cas... grab... fuck, ah, _ah—"_ Dean's hands found the sheets, gripping a handful of them into his fists, pulling at the soft fabric as his back arched. He lifted his leg again once he realized it had lowered a bit, pressing it against Cas' side just like before. "Grab... grab my leg. Keep it... keep it there."

Cas did as he was told, right hand rising to find the hunter's thigh, blunt finger nails digging into the human's skin as the seraph hooked Dean's leg around his hip, lifting the lower half of the hunter's body completely off the mattress as he did it.

And oh, fuck, it felt _glorious_. The shift gave the angel a much better angle to work with, which allowed him to sink even deeper into Dean. His rhythm grew even faster, hips thrusting even more eagerly, filling the air with the wet sound of his dick sliding out of the hunter's lube-filled hole and then sinking right back in, as well as with the one of their sweaty bodies writhing together, of skin rhythmically slapping against skin, almost synchronized with their moans, which by then were broken and raspy and really fucking loud. Neither of them was trying to keep quiet anymore, that much was obvious, but Dean couldn't even find it in himself to care. He kept groaning and gasping, moaning and thrashing on the bed, eyes closed and skin sweaty and fuck, this felt good. This felt really fucking good. He could even—

"Oh, _fuck."_

A particularly loud moan jumped from the hunter's lips when Cas found his prostate again, sending Dean's entire body into a fucking frenzy. He thrashed and whined, muscles trembling as Cas _actually fucking twisted his hips_ so that he could continue to nail that spot inside of Dean repeatedly, making the hunter's back arch every single time and his eyes roll right to the back of his head. The angel's movements were even faster by then, desperate even—the seraph was obviously lost in his own pleasure as his dick repeatedly speared in and out of the hunter in a truly frantic pace.

"Fuck, fuck, Cas—ah, Cas... Fuck, Cas, that's it. That—ah, _ah_ —that's it. Right there. Like that. Just like that. Oh, shit, Cas. Fuck. _Fuck_."

Dean was completely lost to it—to all the sensations currently overwhelming him, to the marvelous feeling of Cas sliding in and out of him repeatedly, fast and dirty, the angel's cock throbbing and hot and fucking nailing Dean's prostrate with _every fucking thrust._  The human's body was moving on its own accord by then, shaking and humping at the empty air right above him, hands gripping blindly at skin and fabric, gasping and moaning and begging and stuttering out praises as Cas continued to fuck into him. Pleasure overwhelmed Dean, poured into him in waves, one right after the other, barely even a second between them. Heat poured into him quickly as a familiar pressure started to build up in his belly, and Dean knew that the dam would burst soon, that he was getting close to that glorious finish line, and all he could do was hang on tight, keeping his eyes closed and losing himself to his own ecstasy, feeling his toes curling and his breath shaking and his hips stuttering and fuck, he was close, he was _so fucking close._  Just a little more, just a few more thrusts and he would—fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ —

Dean came first.

He'd felt it coming, of course—no pun intended. He'd recognized the signs, the hints, the sensations. His body had already been trembling, breath coming short and far too fast, that fire burning hot and insistent in his belly, movements erratic and lacking any sort of control, and there was no way to mistake any of that. But still, his orgasm knocked all the air right out of his lungs, and Dean truly felt like it had come out of nowhere, as though he'd been _tossed_ rather than pushed over the edge.

He really did see those stars again. They filled his vision, bright and beautiful as they danced behind his closed eyelids, almost like fireworks. His entire body tensed up, back arching, hands fisting at the sheets at his sides as every single inch of him was suddenly flooded with potent, overwhelming pleasure, every single nerve in his body thrown into ecstasy, hot and delicious, disorienting and dizzying and fucking _amazing_. His dick twitched repeatedly, letting out several thick, generous squirts of come, painting the skin of the hunter's stomach white with his own hot release. Dean could hear himself moaning, loud and long and dirty— _filthy_ , really—but he didn't even care about the noise. All he knew was bliss and ecstasy as Cas continued to pound into him, as the angel continued to repeatedly press his cock into that glorious spot inside of Dean, giving the hunter several more waves of pleasure, adding even more layers to the human's orgasm.

His entire body felt light and tingly when Dean finally came back to himself, small gasps falling from his mouth as Cas continued to fuck into him, now more eager than ever. The movements of the angel's hips were truly erratic now, lacking any sort of rhythm, his muscles trembling, the angel's grip around the human's thigh tight enough to hurt, which must all mean that Cas was close.

Fuck, Dean wanted Cas to come just like this, buried deep inside of him. He wanted to feel the seraph's thick, hot release filling him, wanted to see what the angel looked like when his orgasm finally hit, wanted to see nothing but pleasure in those breathtaking blue eyes.

So pressing one elbow to the mattress, Dean lifted the upper half of his body off the bed, bringing their naked chests together as he moved to press a feather-light kiss to the side of the angel's head, breathing still shaking and erratic, body still jerking and shuddering as Cas continued to thrust into him in a truly frantic pace. He gripped a handful of Cas' hair, tugging lightly at it as the hunter tilted his own head a bit, letting his lips brush against the skin of the seraph's earlobe. He lowered his voice, making it as hoarse and husky as he could possibly manage, practically purring a string of gravelly, breathy words into Cas' ear.

"Let go, Cas. Just let go. I've got you. Come for me, angel."

And apparently, that was enough to push Cas right over the edge, so Dean leaned away from the angel quickly, letting his body fall back down onto the bed at precisely the right moment, just in time to watch it happen.

The sight of Cas coming was truly _beautiful_. The way the angel's entire body tensed, muscles locking up when Cas finally reached his peak; the way the seraph's mouth fell open in a soundless gasp, breath hitching and shaking, like he'd just choked on empty air; the way his eyes fell closed again, probably without his consent (when had they opened? Dean couldn't remember); the way his fingers tightened around Dean's thigh, blunt nails digging painfully into the hunter's skin, in the most delicious way; the way the movements of Cas' hips stuttered, completely losing their rhythm; the way the angel's entire face contorted in pleasure, his features flooded with nothing more than pure, raw _ecstasy_ —all of it added to the insistent flush that still painted the angel's skin, to the unruly mess of hair covering the top of the seraph's head and the long, broken moan that tore out of the angel's mouth and seemed to echo off the walls of the room created the most obscenely beautiful scene Dean had ever seen in his life.

The lights inside the room wavered, going on and off several times, bathing their surroundings in darkness for a second before brightness returned to take its place every time, as though Cas could no longer control his own powers and _fuck_ , that was hot. That was really, _really_ fucking hot.

Briefly, Dean wondered if Cas' wings were spread behind him, arched high above his head, trembling with the angel's ecstasy. That thought only made that scene even better.

Dean was literally watching Cas come undone right before his eyes, and _he_ had been the cause of it. Dean had gotten Cas here, to the very apex of pleasure. That thought, along with the feeling of the angel's warm relief filling him, painting his insides white in several quick, generous spurts was somehow enough to make Dean's flaccid dick give a valiant little twitch, although the hunter knew that there was no way in hell that he would be up for a second round anytime soon.

Cas didn't move for a while once it was all over. The angel stayed unmoving for several seconds, simply hovering a few inches above Dean with one elbow pressed to the mattress to keep himself steady, his breathing labored and loud, his eyes closed, though his grip on the hunter's thigh did loosen eventually, which allowed the human's lower half to fall to the mattress, and Dean gasped when that caused the angel's by now quickly softening cock to slip out of him.

But eventually, the seraph finally moved.

Without a warning, Cas collapsed right on top of Dean, as though the angel's arm had simply given out under his weight, knocking a startled huff right out of the hunter's lungs. Dean smiled, though, especially when he heard the way Cas was still panting, when he felt the seraph's rapid breathing washing over his collarbone, making his skin tingle in the best way possible, or the way the angel's heart was pretty much hammering against Dean's chest, fast and frantic, like it was trying to somehow break through the angel's ribcage so that it could jump right out of it and escape, the rapid, uneven rhythm matching the one of the hunter's own quickened heartbeat. The sound of their heavy panting was the only thing that could be heard inside that room for several minutes, filling the silence that had fallen over them until eventually their breathing slowed, finally returning to normal.

At some point, Dean lifted a hand so that he could card it through Cas' tousled hair, finding it cold and damp. He pulled his hand back to look at it, finding his skin shiny and wet, coated in a thin layer of sweat that definitely did not belong to him. He snorted softly at the sight of it.

"You don't sweat under any circumstances, huh?" Dean couldn't help but tease, a smile playing on his lips.

A small, low huff reached his ears, before Cas planted his elbows onto the mattress on either side of Dean, lifting the upper half of his body from the hunter's just an inch, just enough so that he could raise his head and meet Dean's eyes. There was a small smile playing on the angel's lips and a clear spark of amusement in his eyes when he replied, "Well, I'd like to point out that I had never engaged in an endeavor such as this one as an angel, so I had no prior evidence that it  _could_ happen. It was an honest mistake."

Dean chuckled at the angel's response. "If you say so," he replied, tone still light and joking, a smile still very insistently tugging at the corners of his mouth. When Cas smiled back, bright and open and just fucking beautiful, Dean couldn't help but lean in, cradling the angel's face in his palm and capturing Cas' lips in a short, tender kiss. It was slow and calm, no real heat behind it, just a lazy, sated brush of lips, but it was still enough to make Dean melt, to have the hunter's muscles turn into useless mush under the angel's weight.

He still felt unbelievably light and giddy when they pulled away, but unfortunately, that feeling didn't last long. Just a moment later, a particularly dark train of thought made itself known in Dean's head, worming its way into his mind without a warning and instantly dampening his mood, turning it into something bitter and sour, and the hunter's smile fell.

A confused frown appeared in Cas' face as soon as it happened.

"What's wrong, Dean?" the angel asked, a clear hint of worry in both his eyes and voice. "Did I do something wrong? Was my performance not satisfactory?"

Dean couldn't help it—he chuckled, a startled laugh that jumped right out of his mouth before he could stop it, and that only seemed to confuse the angel even more. The hunter was quick to shake his head as soon as he noticed it. "No! Cas, seriously, that's not it. Trust me. You were awesome. Like, really fucking awesome." Best sex of his freaking life did come to mind, but Dean chose not to say that one out loud. "You really didn't do anything wrong."

The worry in Cas' eyes didn't fade when he heard those words, and the angel's confused frown remained firmly in place. "Then what is it?"

Dean hesitated before answering, swallowing drily. He suddenly felt like he'd gone about two hours back in time, like he was still sitting on the edge of that bed, fidgeting under the angel's inquiring gaze, feeling tense and awkward, struggling to find the right words to say. His tongue was once again weirdly heavy in his mouth, and for a long, silent moment, all Dean managed to do was stare at Cas, forcing himself to hold that intense blue gaze, though that was a lot easier said than done.

But somehow, after what must have been over a minute of doing nothing more than simply looking into those ridiculously blue eyes, Dean finally managed swallow the lump in his throat. "Cas, do you... are you staying? Like, here, tonight? Or do you... do you want to leave?"

Cas seemed even more confused by those questions, frown deepening even more. "Why would I leave?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, if you... if you want to leave, you can. I just... It's okay, if you don't want to stay here. If you want to go back to your books or whatever. I mean, I don't even..." The hunter sighed, shaking his head, annoyed with how freaking pathetic he sounded in that moment, but unfortunately, there wasn't much he could do about it. "We didn't really talk all that much, before we... I mean, I don't even know if you want this to be just a... a one-time thing." Maybe they should have talked this through a bit better, Dean realized. What if Cas had simply wanted to sleep with him tonight and that was it? What if this was just something the angel had wished to get out of his system? What if... what if this was all? One night of (fucking amazing) sex and nothing more?

Fuck, Dean really hadn't thought this through.

Cas' frown faded as soon as he heard those words, any hint of confusion instantly vanishing from the angel's features, only to be replaced by something heavy and... sad? Was Dean seeing that right?

"Dean, I don't..." The angel shook his head when his voice failed. There was something weird in his tone, something that made his voice sound oddly low and scratchy, but the hunter wasn't sure what to make of it. "I'm sorry if I wasn't clear enough before, but that is not what I want here. I don't wish for this to simply be a... a 'one-time thing'. I truly don't." Cas smiled, soft and small, just a tiny little thing, though it was still enough to make Dean's chest feel about a thousand times lighter. "And of course I want to stay. But only if you want me to, that is."

Dean smiled, letting out a breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding until then. Those words were all he wanted to hear right now, and he felt warmth blooming inside of him, strong, powerful, _overwhelming_ relief flooding his entire body, making him feel so light that part of him actually believed he could just freaking float away.

"Of course I want you to stay, Cas."

Cas smiled back at him just as brightly, mouth splitting to form that adorable gummy smile of his. Without a word, the seraph lowered his head to give Dean one more slow, careful kiss, as though wishing to make his point even clearer, before he leaned away from the hunter, shifting on the bed and slowly sliding off of Dean, coming to lay on the mattress right beside the human. One of the angel's arms wrapped itself around the hunter's waist, tightening slightly around the human's body, and soon enough Dean realized that was Cas' way of trying to get the human to move closer to him.

But as much as Dean wanted to allow the movement, as much as he wanted to cuddle with Cas right now—the single thought of it was enough to have Dean feeling excited and giddy all over again—the human didn't allow himself to be moved.

"Cas, we're all gross," he argued, shifting a bit on the bed, grimacing when he realized that he could still feel his own come cooling on his stomach. He glanced down, finding that Cas' front was also painted in white, skin coated with Dean's release, probably from when the angel had fallen right on top of him. "I should probably go get something to clean us up first." Dean made to roll over, intending to get up from the bed and go do just that, but the arm wrapped around his waist didn't loosen at all. Instead, it actually tightened around him, keeping the hunter firmly in place.

When Dean raised a quizzical eyebrow at Cas, the angel simply shook his head. "There's no need for that, Dean." Cas lifted a hand, waving it through the air, and suddenly the sticky mess of come that had up until then been covering a considerate portion of both of their stomachs was completely gone, not even a drop of it left behind.

Dean's eyebrows rose up to his forehead in surprise, and he let out a breathy chuckle. "Oh, well, that's... convenient."

The arm currently wrapped around the hunter's waist tightened again in yet another attempt to pull him toward the angel, and this time, Dean didn't fight it. Instead, the human let himself be moved easily and without any resistance, settling against Cas and smiling at the way their bodies fit together perfectly. There was a lingering ache in his muscles as he moved, a pleasant sort of burn, so Dean could already tell that he was going to be _deliciously_ sore tomorrow, and the thought filled with a giddy sort of joy. Still smiling, the human laid his head on Cas' chest, tucking it under the angel's chin, sliding one leg in between the angel's and letting his left arm drape over the seraph's naked stomach, sighing happily at the feeling of warm bare skin touching him _everywhere_.

Yeah, Dean could admit it—he liked to cuddle. He really, _really_ like to cuddle, and the fact he was doing it with _Cas_ only made it so much better.

And that they were both completely naked, too. That made it _glorious_ , really.

He felt the angel shift against him, and just a few seconds later there was a sheet being draped over their bodies, the cold, soft fabric dragging lightly against the hunter's heated skin. And once they were both properly covered, a hand snaked its way under the sheet, its careful fingers brushing tenderly against the length of Dean's arm once, twice, before it finally found the hunter's hand. Dean gripped it in his grasp, intertwining their fingers together, before letting their joined hands rest on Cas' chest, right over the angel's heart. He caressed the seraph's skin with his thumb gently, and he smiled when Cas squeezed his hand softly in response.

This felt good. It felt really freaking good—intimate, even, in a way Dean wasn't used to, in a way he'd never experienced before. In that moment, wrapped up in Cas' arms, naked body pressed against the angel's, Dean felt... he felt wanted. He felt  _happy,_ truly, and he wasn't sure how to deal with it.

Dean knew that he and Cas would need to talk about this. There was a lot the hunter still wished to say to him, and he had no doubts that the angel hadn't voiced everything he'd wished to say tonight either. But Dean decided that could wait a little while, probably until morning, really.

And that wasn't all. Dean also knew that he would need to deal with everyone tomorrow—or at least soon, anyway—which meant that he would need to figure out how to tell everyone about this, about him and Cas, sooner rather than later. He still had a lot of issues to work through, and he had no freaking idea how he'd even do that, but he _wanted_ to do it. Or maybe someone _had_ heard them tonight and would make things a lot easier for them; Dean had no way to know right now. But regardless, that whole situation, too, would have to wait until morning.

And last but not least, Michael was still out there. The psychotic archangel was apparently creating an army of monsters, and Dean would still need to call Jody in the morning to inquire about a possible rift to another world that might have opened up somewhere. And they would still need to find that spear, or another way to defeat Michael, at least.

But Dean chose not to think about that now, either. He chose not to worry about any of those things, at least for a little while. Instead, he just let himself bask in this moment, right here, right now. He let himself _enjoy_ it, let himself feel  _happy_ for a little while, as selfish as that was.

"Can you use your angel mojo to turn off the lights, too?" he muttered against the angel's collarbone, because Dean definitely did not want to get up right now, and he had a feeling that neither did Cas.

The angel waved his hand in the air again, just a quick movement that lasted less than two seconds, and in the next moment, the room was completely shrouded in darkness.

Yeah, Dean could really get used to that.

The hunter smiled, lifting his head slightly, just enough so that he could press a light kiss to the side of the angel's neck, before settling back against Cas' firm body. He licked his lips, and his smile widened when he realized that he could taste Cas' salty sweat on his tongue. He kinda wanted to get another taste, to actually lick at the angel's skin this time, though unfortunately, he couldn't quite find it in himself to do it in that moment. Dean could barely even keep his eyes open anymore, his eyelids heavy and drooping over his eyes, muscles completely useless, as though they'd sudden turned into freaking jelly. His mind was muddled, as though a thick curtain of exhaustion had been draped over it, thoughts nothing more than a confused, blurry mess.

However, as the hunter shifted a bit against Cas to make himself more comfortable, a thought suddenly occurred to him, one that even his sleep-addled brain couldn't quite ignore.

"Won't you get bored here, though?" Dean asked—well, slurred might be the right term, really. "I mean, you don't sleep."

Cas replied quickly, without a beat. "There is nothing else I would rather do right now than be here with you, Dean."

And yeah, okay, that was cheesy and corny and so freaking sweet that it might have actually given Dean a freaking cavity, but the hunter couldn't help but smile like a freaking idiot as soon as he heard those words. He couldn't even find it in himself to argue, to insist on the matter, to make sure that Cas really was okay with hanging around doing nothing for a few hours while Dean slept. Actually, the hunter didn't even manage to get his lips to form a response. He was probably just a few seconds away from falling asleep, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Before slumber pulled him under, however, Dean felt a kiss being pressed to the side of his head, accompanied by the feeling of gentle fingers carding slowly through his hair. He smiled again because of it, then let his face nuzzle against the side of the angel's neck, tucking his head under Cas' chin again.

"Sleep, Dean. I'll watch over you."

And that's exactly what Dean did. When he finally slipped into unconsciousness, however, despite his earlier concerns, Dean was no longer worried about what would come from it. He was no longer afraid of the nightmares that might plague his mind tonight, of all the painful, unwanted memories that might resurface as soon as he fell asleep. He felt content and relaxed, pulling in Cas' scent with every breath, engulfed in the angel's heat, wrapped up in that comfortable, warm cocoon of sheets and skin and _Cas_. For the first time in a long, long time, Dean felt _safe_.

After all, he had an angel watching over him.


End file.
